The Truth Remains the Same
by skatergurljubulee
Summary: Merlin hadn't wanted much for Arthur Pendragon. He wanted him a just king, a man of honor, defender of the realm. The man to unite humanity and magic in its purest form. But, that was before he remembered. The Arthurian was a mistake. BigBang entry.
1. Part 1

1.

_The wizard lifted his staff toward Uther. "Today you die," he said, voice dry and dull._

It was Wizards, and not mystical creatures, in the end. It was fitting that an older man, and his young apprentice who did the deed; finished things. "Your reign of death ends."

They arrived in a flurry of wind and smoke. The apprentice wore rags; rags that looked very similar to Merlin's old clothes, before he'd become a manservant to the crown prince. Merlin stepped closer, his chest brushing the back of Arthur's smaller throne, eyes for his newest enemies. The young man looked close to Merlin's age of twenty-six, and like him, the younger man wore his emotions right on his face. Though Merlin had gotten out of the habit of wearing his thoughts on his face; since he'd seen a man beheaded on his first day back in Camelot, and most certainly not since two weeks before.

The younger fellow sneered at the scrambling Lords and Ladies around him, his brown eyes full of pride and the stupidity that came with believing you were unstoppable. So, no real threat.

In complete contrast, the older Wizard's clothes were fine robes and an old knobby staff made of oak, covered in knicks and gouges, obviously having seen many battles and better years. Merlin would have dismissed the man altogether—except for the staff. The clothes were misleading, but the staff was not.

They'd appeared in the middle of the Throne room-which, in Uther's old age, had been happening more often. Somehow sensing their time growing short, all magical beings with a grudge against Camelot and its king threw aside any semblance of covert plans and came to seek justice boldly. It hadn't escaped Merlin's notice that once witches, wizards, and other magical beings stopped focusing on trying to hurt Uther through his son, and aimed their attack at Uther himself, their chances improved.

It wasn't exactly a secret that many thought the prince was protected by a powerful being. But Merlin had zero interest in confirming those suspicions and frankly he worked quite hard to keep it only that: rumors, suspicions and no real proof.

Merlin did his best to leave no one alive to tell the tale.

Chaos ensued. Nobles ran towards the doors of the throne room, banging on it and being trampled underfoot, their screams hitting a fever pitch almost at once when the doors stayed shut.

Merlin watched at Arthur's side as Uther sat forward in his chair, seemingly oblivious to the pandemonium around him, his face mottled in anger. "How dare you come here. Guards!"

Unlike previous adversaries, the two Wizards gave no reasons for killing Uther; no pompous and long-winded stories, no tales of innocent relatives being the source that lit Camelot's nights while they burned on the stakes, no judgments or recriminations.

The old Wizard glared at the King, raised his staff higher, and a strip of lightening left the staff and struck Uther.

"Father!" Arthur yelled, already out his chair and half to the Wizard, his sword unsheathed.

Arthur charged toward the Wizard (who paid him no mind, almost looking bored), and smacked into the invisible wall. He sprawled on the ground, blinking at air, his sword still grasped in his hand. "What?"

"I'm sorry, I can't let you do that."

Arthur's head whipped round, understanding dawning as he looked at Merlin. "Merlin?"

Merlin lowered his hand and forced himself to meet Arthur's betrayed face. "He'll kill you, Arthur. Let me deal with them."

"Is this a conspiracy?"

Merlin ignored Arthur's accusation, had to, really. The older Wizard had turned his attention to Merlin right then.

"The Prince does have a watcher," the old man said, his eyebrows rising, the only sign he wasn't indifferent to the revelation. "That explains much."

Merlin gave a thought to the general direction of the door, it sprang open, the court attendants stampeded out as the guards and knights came in, and surrounded the wizards.

"I can't let you do this." Merlin met the older man's eyes, searching for any sort of give; anything that he could use to get the man to leave without more bloodshed. He found none."It's wrong, magic was never meant to be used this way. You know_ this."_

"You know nothing!" The apprentice roared, standing in front of his teacher. "How can you serve in this court, protecting him." He pointed a finger at Arthur who now stood, hacking away at the barrier with the hilt of his sword. The apprentice muttered some words, his attention heavy on Arthur. Daggers materialized around the young man, turning as one toward the Prince and shooting like arrows toward the barrier.

The daggers hit the invisible barrier, clattering to the floor loudly, adding to the ruckus. Merlin turned his attention from the master to the apprentice momentarily, in time to see the apprentice gape, then recover. He glared at Merlin, mouth twisted. "He will be just as his father. Future deaths must be prevented."

"If you try to harm him again, I will kill you." Merlin spared the apprentice a longer glance, letting the younger man see the truth in his eyes.

When Merlin arrived in Camelot seven or so years ago, he might have hesitated, might have felt guilt about killing to protect Arthur, but those days were long gone. Merlin was the tool of the future High King and Arthur would see his fate; Arthur meeting his fate was the only way Merlin would have to change his destiny.

"Stand aside, Daven," the old man said, placing a hand on the younger man's shoulder and pushing him out of his way. Daven balked, a protestation on his lips (Merlin was familiar with those), but there was magic in the air. Daven lifted off his feet, legs dangling in the air as he was moved aside with invisible hands to hover almost gently against the wall.

Merlin looked back at the Wizard, impressed. He'd been correct then, not that it wasn't obvious by the Wizards presence alone that he was not to be messed with. Well, at least not by anyone other than himself.

"Merlin! Free me," Arthur cried behind him. Merlin ignored Arthur, but couldn't ignore the knights surrounding the wizened Sorcerer, their swords closing in a circle close enough to hurt them both given the chance.

"I'm not here for the son, boy," the old man said, voice both implacable and disinterested. "You can keep your wall around him if you want, but let me make him King."

"I can't do that either. I can't let you kill his father." Merlin stepped closer, magic buzzing in his veins like a nest of furious bees, the hairs on his skin standing on end, ready to strike. "You have no excuse, you know Magic isn't to be used like this."

The wizard stared at Merlin, his eyes perusing his body. He inclined his head, a small smile crept onto his face. "You are very powerful. You would not hesitate to kill me if I raised a hand against the Prince, and you say you would not let me kill the King. What is your excuse for your bloodshed?" The old man lifted his chin. "We both know you could have stopped me from harming the King before. You have no allegiance to Uther Pendragon, just to his son."

Merlin knew he stood on shaky ground when others who knew (and the numbers were few) what he was capable of. But, it wasn't for anyone but fate, destiny, Merlin and eventually Arthur to know of his higher calling.

"My allegiance is to Camelot and its people." Merlin rolled his shoulders, lifted his right hand toward the Wizard. He wouldn't be distracted by observations, no matter how true. "If you strike the King, you both die."

The wizard chuckled. "Of course we will. You can't have the boy come again for revenge." His face cleared, and he gripped his staff tighter, raising it higher. "But we prepared ourselves for the inevitable, Warlock."

Merlin felt the Wizard's power hit his skin, and it was substantial. If he wanted to kill the Pendragon line, it wouldn't put a strain on him, as neither would wiping out all the people in the Castle. He was a great wizard, a true power to be reckoned with.

But Merlin was stronger.

Merlin clenched his fists, stopping the Wizard's gathering of power before he'd finished collecting it. Merlin blinked and the staff flew into his right hand and caught flame, burning to ashes as soon as it hit his palm. All the power the Wizard had accumulated over the decades, all the patience, hard work and dedication, the essence of the Sorcerer, went into Merlin's body in a breath, returning home.

Merlin sighed, and Devon's heart stopped where he still hovered against the wall. The old man turned and looked over at his apprentice, the color draining from his face. He turned back to Merlin, watching his approach.

The old wizard dropped to his knees before Merlin, his eyes wide, shocked. "The Druids talked of your return," he babbled, his voice rising and his words tumbling over themselves. "I didn't know, Sire, I didn't_ know."_

Merlin dipped his head, placing a hand on the man's shoulder, the information he needed-the Wizard's life flashing in Merlin's mind's eye in mere moments—coming to him like a memory. "It's okay, Thames. All's forgiven, alright?"

Thames nodded, the tension in his body releasing under Merlin's fingers. "Yes, Father. Thank you."

Merlin smiled. "Sleep, Thames."

Thames' body slumped forward, growing cold already. Merlin stepped aside, letting it fall forward with a meaty thwack_._

Merlin looked at the ceiling and breathed through his mouth, doing his best to push the tears out of his eyes and the emotions off his face. What a waste. It was all such a waste. What he'd done was unforgivable.

Merlin swallowed, righting his head. He looked into the faces of the Knights—Arthur's knights. "The King needs your help," he said, tilting his head in the direction of Uther's slumped body on the throne. "He's still breathing; He needs Gaius."

The knights twitched, blinking at Merlin, confused and disorientated.

"Go_," Merlin said, losing his patience. "If you don't hurry, he'll die. Don't worry about me."  
The knights kicked into action then, dashing about in flurry of activity as their attention switched from Merlin to Uther, who was more important (for Camelot). Shouts for messengers to inform Gaius of Uther's injuries, directions and orders to carry the King to the Physician's quarters—_

"Free me_."_

Merlin turned around and bit his lip; the invisible barrier collapsed. "Arthur—"

"Don't. Not now," Arthur clutched his sword like a security blanket, the tip aimed at the ground. Merlin tried not to see the action as a good sign, but he couldn't help himself. The only person he'd ever let kill him was Arthur, and it was a relief to see the Prince had no intentions of doing that, at least not that minute.

"I wasn't going to. I was—" Merlin looked at his feet and sniffed, tapping into Thames' power. There was a pause of silence, then yelling and swords were redrawn when it registered that Uther's body had disappeared from the Knight's arms. Merlin didn't bother to look at the swords near his throat, just focused his attention on the only person in the room who mattered, the only person who ever mattered for Merlin. "He's in Gaius' chambers. It's quicker, and there isn't much time."

Arthur part glared at Merlin, part looked at him as if a stranger. Merlin understood the sentiment, he did. In times like these, he hardly knew himself either. No, that wasn't true. In moments like these, he always realized in the times of peace, when he could hide behind the mirage of being nothing but a simple and reckless human, those_ were the times when he was a stranger. Times like these, he knew himself and his uses all too well._

Arthur nodded sharply, his hard eyes scanning Merlin's face. He sheathed his sword and without sparing Merlin a glance, took off at a run for Gaius' chambers, the knights following like lost sheep.

Merlin's knees gave out and he crumbled to the floor, his thigh brushing Thames' head. He looked at the Wizard's cooling corpse, wanting for a moment –just one moment— to be in the old man's place. Merlin squeezed his eyes shut, forcing the thought away. Now was not the time to feel sorry. Today was just the beginning of the journey he faced—

"You could have saved him."

Merlin flinched, looking up and met Morgana's eyes as she knelt in front of him. Her voice held no censure, no emotion of any kind, actually. He wished he could say that he was surprised by that, but it would be another lie. He shook his head, lowering his face under Morgana's gaze. "No, I really couldn't have."

"In the dream—" Merlin didn't bother feigning a lack of understanding to Morgana's words; that ship had long sailed—"you saved Uther. You killed those wizards as soon as the smoke dispersed."Morgana's hand rested on Merlin's clasped fingers. "But you didn't do it; you let him strike Uther before you raised your hand."

"The apprentice hurt Arthur—"

"He tried to," Morgana said. She wasn't smiling, it was more a twist of lips, a cross between a grimace and a frown. "His magic didn't even register against that, that shield you made around Arthur. If the boy's face hadn't have been so shocked, I don't think anyone would have known he'd tried to attack Arthur. It was all invisible."

"Oh." Merlin licked his lips, a tad embarrassed. He'd forgotten he could see magic, that he was the exception instead of the rule. Which, really, he should know better, especially now.

Morgana's hand lifted and held Merlin's chin, tilting his head up and at her. "Thank you," she whispered, her face no longer a mask. Her breath whispered against Merlin's mouth, hot and jagged, smelling of the wine he and Gwen served before the court meeting fell to pieces. "For Arthur. For giving Uther a chance."

Merlin held Morgana's gaze for as long as he dared, shrugged, dipping his head when the magic that filled them pulled at their bodies, at their secrets. "Destiny, unlike Fate, can be decided on the head of a pin," he said to his hands. "Always remember that, Morgana."

Morgana lifted his head with her fingers, smiling. "I will."

The kiss wasn't more than a brush of lips, but Merlin felt it all the way to his toes. He leaned away, his stomach turning, tension in his chest tightening as Morgana followed after him, pressing their mouths together further. Just before her hands started tugging on his hair in a more obvious way, Morgana pulled back, breathless, her eyes large and all dark.

They looked at each other, and Merlin was pretty sure he was just as surprised by the spark of lightening he'd used on her lips as she. "That part wasn't in the dream," Morgana said, face pinking.

"Erm," Merlin said. "I imagine it wasn't. But you know me. Wild card."

Morgana frowned, rising. Merlin followed suit, preparing himself for the words that seemed to be about to burst from Morgana's mouth.

"You're not at all wild or spontaneous," she said, her face the epitome of confusion and surprise. "We all think you are, but you're not."

Merlin shrugged, because, he didn't know what else Morgana wanted from him. As of late, he hadn't made it his purpose in life to know her wants and intentions. That would change very soon, unfortunately. What happened to Morgana—how she reacted to the future was in direct correlation with what happened to Arthur, and if Arthur was to have a chance, any chance, it would be through Morgana. There wasn't a time in his entire existence, that Merlin wished more than anything that Morgana was just another inconsequential, unimportant, forgettable person in the world.

"You're for Arthur, that's all you've ever wanted, once you met him," she said after a moment, staring blankly at him. Her eyes softened, a flare of gold encompassed her eyes and then was gone. If Merlin hadn't known what to look for when Morgana slipped into a vision, he doubted he would have caught it. She patted Merlin's cheek, the flare of attraction of the timeless sort drifted away. "But living the life of sacrifice for a human, no matter how important, is dangerous. Earth shattering."

Merlin pulled away, coming back to himself and the situation that wasn't yet a candle-mark old. He flashed Morgana an impatient look, tired of her judgments, even if she didn't yet know she'd made them previously. That was the problem with Destiny, unfortunately. "I've—"

"You need to see Arthur, I know," Morgana smiled at him, it wasn't sad or happy; but it was an exact duplicate of Thames the wizard, who lay lifeless at their feet. The man grateful for death when he'd seen Merlin's measure and saw Merlin's inevitable bane: Fate.

Merlin bowed, turning on his heel, letting the misplaced conversation and circumstances drop in his mind, to the chasm of memories.

From this moment forward, it was a race against time. There was no going back.

* * *

Arthur was born while Merlin was in Panama.

Magic struck him at the center of his chest and bloomed outward, the beginnings of the spell created ages ago to watch Arthur, protect him, taking hold as soon as the former king expelled a breath.

The other power, the kind he was forced to take, burst out of its cell, charging to the unknown, back to its owner. Merlin gasped, rolling from his side on the straw mat to his back, blinking at the thatched roof of his meager one room hut. _Good riddance._

"Did you feel it?" Merlin directed his voice to his left. "History's being made anew. Fate, Magic and Destiny are forming the sands of time and circumstance for the last time. The time for change has—"

"You don't have to be so dramatic," Archimedes cut in, scathing as always. "Contrary to popular belief, the world is _not_ a stage."

Merlin glared across the dark room at the mega-sized Burrowing Owl perched on the stand.

"But," Archimedes coughed, fluttering his wings nervously, "hurray for the King, second chances, and all that."

Merlin laughed, loud and relieved. "Yes, second chances."

"Do you know where?" Archimedes hopped down from his stand, landed gracelessly (Merlin was convinced it was on purpose—anything to make Merlin's life miserable, does his Archie) on Merlin's ribs, talons poking his skin. "Are we to leave now? Because honestly, Merlin, it's entirely too hot for my sensibilities."

"London," Merlin replied, nodding to himself, ignoring Archie's usual complaint. "He was born in London." The spell (his best spell) finished its work. As was his intention, the string of magic connected him to Arthur in the most intense, and oddly vague of way. If everything worked correctly, and these days, they did, Arthur wouldn't know it was there until he was ready (like last time, if the magic held out, though this spell had a defining difference). Hopefully, it would be a long time coming, if it came at all.

Merlin smiled, propping his arms under his head. He wasn't quite sure what to do now that the majority of his waiting was over. "Well, we've waited all this time. We can wait a few years more."

"That…wasn't what I expected you to say," Archie blinked, erm, _owlishly_, at him. "I thought for sure you'd have whisked us away by now. In fact," the owl drawled suspiciously. "Why _are_ we waiting?"

"We're not waiting, exactly." Merlin frowned at Archie when the bird hopped—painfully—from his ribs to his chest. "We're preparing."

Always preparing.

2.

Corbin noticed the ball of energy in his chest when he was seven.

He was playing with Sean and Emmy (she was good, for a girl) in Sean's courtyard, running up and down the grass surrounding the big water fountain with the statue of Plato, his trainers sliding over the cobbled walkway that intersected the grassy bits.

It rained earlier in the day and the sky still looked mad, but Corbin didn't care. He'd lost to Sean and Emmy at _Mario Kart: Double Dash_ while it poured and he needed to remind his friends he wasn't to be messed with. Yeah, they were better at video games than him, but Corbin was the absolute king of footy. The next Pelé and Maradona combined.

Anyway, the point was, he could score on them with both hands tied behind him. Actually, Corbin dared them, and Sean never backed down from one of those. They'd gone to Mrs. Hall in the kitchens and got some trussing string ("Easier for Emmy to break when you need your balance after we beat you," Sean explained), and Emmy tied Corbin's wrists behind his back, a little crease in her forehead as she waved her hands over Corbin's and made it so. Corbin and Sean didn't normally trust a girl to do knots, but Emmy did them better than anyone they knew.

Even with his hands tied behind his back, Corbin scored on Sean and Emmy. Unlike tying knots, Emmy wasn't a good goalie and unlike anything, Sean wasn't good at much anything except for complaining and cheating at video games.

Corbin was going for another goal, when he tripped over the slick cobbled surface, his right leg sliding under him, his left, well, his left tripping forward, making him jerk forward, head first into the stone fountain of Plato—

A force yanked him back.

Corbin's legs collapsed under him, a pressure, close to the force that steadied him, broke the string round his wrists. He plopped down on the wet stones, gasping for air, part exertion, part shock and fear.

What just happened?

"Corbin!" Emmy screeched, her and Sean's quick footfalls echoed in Corbin's ears, sounding like drums in the humid air.

"Whoa!" Sean said, first to reach him. "Hell, Corbin. I thought your brains were gonna be splattered all over the place."

They'd been practicing their swear words and though dazed, Corbin was proud of Sean's appropriate usage. They'd be ace at it in no time.

"Hell," Corbin repeated after Sean, still a bit shell shocked, his glee draining as the force he'd felt lessened, settling on the center of his chest, just over his heart like a warm, invisible hand. "I don't know what happened."

And he didn't. Yeah, he was still a kid, but he'd learned about gravity years ago (earlier in the year actually, but that might as well be _ages_). His head should've cracked open like a coconut. But something pulled him back.

Corbin patted at his chest, still feeling that phantom pull that probably saved his life. He grinned. "Wicked."

"Yeah," Sean met Corbin's eyes, helping him to his feet like every best friend should.  
"You almost died!" Emmy yelled, launching herself at Corbin, sweaty and squeezing the air out of him. "And I didn't see it!" She cried onto his shoulder, her bevy of soft curls in his face, making his nose twitch.

"Yeah, but you don't see things about me anymore," Corbin wheezed, patting Emmy on the shoulder awkwardly, glaring at Sean to do something. "But—"

"What would've been the fun in all that?" Sean finished with a baleful blue-eyed glare, clearly faking a put-upon sigh. Sheesh, Sean was so transparent. Did he even try anymore? Corbin smirked over Emmy's hair, unimpressed.

But whatever, it still fooled Emmy. She jumped off Sean as quickly as she came, and punched Sean in the stomach.

Corbin made sympathetic sounds that covered his snicker as Sean doubled over, and grabbed Emmy's elbow before she dispensed another blow. "What good is my magic if it can't help anyone?" Emmy said, tears welling in her eyes again. Corbin rubbed her shoulder, but nothing more. Emmy was as tough as a boy, and even though she wasn't a good goalie, she'd soon set herself to rights (that, and Corbin didn't want to catch the lurgy—she was still a girl).

"Mate, you were yanked back, like, like a rope was tied round you," Sean said, arms flailing about, choking a little on his words—probably from the wallop Emmy gave him.

"Yeah?" Corbin asked, faint. "Did you see it?"

Sean shook his head, righting himself. "No, didn't see a thing. It was like," Sean clutched at his stomach a bit; He grimaced and belched. Corbin and Emmy laughed. "Like I could see it out the corner of my eye."

Emmy nodded next to Corbin. "That's what I saw too! But I could see gold thread out the corner of my eye." She glanced between him and Sean, her cheeks reddening. "Maybe it's magic, like mine. Only different."

Corbin and Sean nodded, as solemn as pair of seven year olds could be.

Emmy could see parts of the future as long as Corbin knew her. At five, she predicted they'd meet Sean when they were six. For the whole year before, all Emmy's predictions were either good things (Corbin getting into Emmy's private school on "scholarship" as mum called it, whatever that meant) or really horrible things (Dad going mad, hurting him and mum most days), but never in between. Once Sean came along, she only saw things about her and Sean. Sean fancied Emmy, though he denied it. Last month, Corbin caught Emmy drawing a house with her as the mum and Sean as the dad during playtime; she denied it too—but Corbin caught her folding the paper and putting it in her pocket when she thought he wasn't looking.

When the visions about him ended, Corbin was relieved. He was seven, not fifteen. Who wanted that weight on their shoulders? If he was going to die or something, he wanted it to be a surprise.

"Maybe you've got someone to watch over you," Emmy suggested, grey eyes glinting with excitement, clapping her hands, her tears already forgotten. "Like a fairy god-mother!"

"You're such a girl," Sean deadpanned, pointing a dirty finger at her. "Boys don't have fairy god-mothers. We have Batman."

"Or a Warlock," Corbin said, dusting off his knees. Huh, not a scratch. "I didn't think the magic would last quite this long." Corbin blinked, stunned by his own words.

"A guardian Warlock," Sean said, grinning, not missing a beat. Corbin sighed. He made odd statements like that often, and nowadays, it seemed he was the only one who was ever surprised by them. Corbin was starting to worry for Sean and Emmy's sanity—their lack of concern at his batty statements a large reason. And there was others over the last six months. But, after he'd decided that his sanity was on the way out too, he figured they could all be crazy together—not that they'd be able to tell the difference, besides.

Sean frowned. "Why don't I have a guardian Warlock?"

Corbin scoffed. "You've got Emmy." Sean always had Emmy.

Sean looked at Emmy, sizing her up. "She'll do," he said eventually.

Emmy rolled her eyes, glaring at Sean. "You're horribly stupid."

"Yeah?" Sean smiled at Emmy, rolling on his heels toward her. She smiled back, leaning toward him as well, twirling a lock of her light brown hair.

"Ugh," Corbin said, grossed out. He looked about him, seeing the footy ball by the fountain and grabbed it. "I bet I can score two points on you two!" he yelled, garnering Sean and Emmy's attention, also breaking their lurgy spreading staring contest.

As expected, Sean snapped out of it, smiling at Corbin tried to kick the footy ball from knee to knee, like Emmy's older brother Nicholas taught them two weeks ago. "I bet I'll stop you."

"You can try," Corbin challenged, dropping the ball and kicking it in Emmy's direction.

She giggled, receiving it and taking off down the courtyard. "If you can get it from me!"

Sean laughed. "Yeah, like that's hard," he called out, chasing after Emmy, his continued taunts filling the air.

Corbin let them run ahead, jogging back, closer to the fountain. He reached out a hand, rubbing the lower tier of one the water pools, fingers touching cold, hard, unrelenting stone.

No buts about it. His head would have cracked open like a coconut.

If he concentrated hard, Corbin could feel the energy in his chest, warm and pulsing. Now that he knew it was there, it was hard to ignore.

Though, he couldn't feel it, not outright. Which meant…yeah.

He might be protected by magic.

_Treason. He must burn at the stake! He must— _

Corbin grinned. "Brilliant."

He ran after Sean and Emmy, his heart and chest beating fast, and sure. And maybe a little relieved.

Maybe, he wasn't alone, after all.

* * *

_Merlin followed the raised voices to Gaius' chambers, his heart beating faster than time itself._

"Merlin_," Gwen whispered fiercely, her small form blocking the entrance to his shared room with Gaius. She shifted away from the door and Merlin, her hands flying to her throat. "You mustn't be here. The King—the guards will be after you—"_

"How are things?" Merlin asked, placing a hand on Gwen's elbow, calming her. "I'll be fine, don't worry." He smiled down at her, hoping she'd see the truth in his eyes.

Gwen blinked, casting her gaze behind her and to the room full of guards, the crown prince and a dying King. "He's in pain—but the King is strong."

Merlin nodded, looking past Gwen, took in Uther's still body on Gaius' examination table. Arthur at left side, Gaius on his right. The knights who carried the king in were surrounding the wall, their faces grim, showing the stress and concern Arthur seemed to contain without effort.

"Merlin," Gwen touched his chest, face searching his. "Are you harmed?"

Merlin schooled his face, aiming for sincerity, did his best to withhold the laughter bubbling in his belly. "No, not physically."

Gwen's brows scrunched together, cleared as understanding dawned. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"I need room to attend to the King's wounds, please leave," Gaius spoke up over the din of confusion, brooking no argument, forestalling Merlin's reply. "I cannot treat his Highness if I cannot concentrate."

"Leave," Arthur croaked, his attention remaining on Uther. "Alert the undertaker of the bodies in the Throne room, and—" Arthur's chin dipped nearly to his chest, his eyes staying resolutely open and on his father's chest, Merlin noted. "Leave."

The Knights filed out without a word, all except Sir Leon. Merlin watched the gentle Knight, and after a moment, Sir Leon felt his regard and returned it.

Leon's eyes narrowed, jaw clenching. Merlin lifted his chin, held the Knight's challenge. They stayed like that for what could have been hours, or seconds, or several centuries. But Merlin knew what needed to be done. What he did could not be challenged or questioned by anyone other than Arthur. The Prince was the only person who could judge Merlin, and that was how it would be forever.

Leon's gaze dropped to the floor. Satisfied, Merlin patted Gwen's elbow, turning his attention back to her, ignoring the question in her face. "No," he smiled at her, "there's nothing you can do for me. But, Morgana—"

Gwen jolted, her face a mask of embarrassment. "My Lady_," she exclaimed, releasing Merlin and hurrying down the hallway._

Merlin watched her leave, relief overcoming the worry he had for both her and Morgana. They would take care of themselves; together.

And, if not, that was what Leon was for.

Arthur, on the other hand, needed him. They all had their responsibilities, in this pseudo game. There were no exceptions, especially not for Merlin.

"Can I do anything to help?" Merlin asked, coming to Gaius' side.

"I think you've done enough," Gaius met his gaze, eyebrow raised. Merlin suppressed a sigh. Of course Gaius knew what he was up to (or thought he did, at any rate, which counted just as much, if not more), and no doubt Merlin would get an earful—well, if Merlin was still in Camelot at that point, or still alive.

"Kill him, Arthur," Uther grated, eyes fluttering open.

Merlin's heart seized. He looked down on the operating table, at the damage done to his second worst enemy, and one-time best friend. The man who was once just as important, if not more so, than Arthur himself.

Every vein in Uther's body was prominent; fat, black through his translucent gray skin, and angry, as if the Wizard—Thames—had caught fire to the blood in the King's body, and that blood was fighting to get out. It was clear to see what Thames had wanted for Uther: to burn from the inside out.

Gaius managed to get the King's shirt off in the upheaval, not that it mattered very much. Back in the Throne room, Merlin smelled the burning flesh and fabric. The hole in Uther's chest was large, reaching the width of him, black like his veins, hollowed out and husk-like, like the sky itself had struck him down.

Merlin grimaced, seeing Uther's heart beating sluggishly in the husk that was his chest. It looked like little more than a fist sized rock, the veins and innards around it doing their best to keep Uther going despite the hopelessness of the effort. It was a miracle that it was beating at all; the king should be dead. It was hard to recall this Uther as the boy he met all those years ago. The boy he looked over, knowing Uther was the man he would have done this for—killed, destroyed destinies and gone beyond what was necessary to save—once upon a time. Now, he was the cause of his friend's demise. But, there was time for regret later, after he'd saved Uther's son. Uther would thank him, if he knew what was at stake for Arthur.

Nonetheless, Merlin felt a twinge in his heart for the King. He twisted his left wrist, and the King's heart beat a little stronger, would beat a little longer. For Arthur's sake.

The king grappled for Arthur's tunic, trying to sit up. Gaius pushed Uther back on the table, Uther so weak it didn't appear Gaius needed much effort. Gaius wiped at the blackish blood leaking out of the King's eyes. Arthur remained speechless, his face twisted in confusion, as if looking at something beyond his understanding.

"They must burn, son," Uther wheezed, his charred lungs making meaty, wet noises as they failed to inflate properly with air.

"They— they're dead," Arthur said, squinting at Uther, his breath quickening, as if he was trying to breathe for his father.

Uther nodded, eyes closing. His mouth hung open, his tongue twitched. "Merlin," he ground out, eyes springing open. "Make him pay for his treason."

Merlin stiffened, raised his eyes to Arthur, remained silent. A lot of the future hung on Arthur's reaction.

Arthur blanched, losing some of the confusion on his face. He looked up and at Merlin, looking lost. "Father—"

"Treason," Uther croaked, leaning towards Arthur and attempting to grab his shirt. "Promise me you'll burn him at the stake. Promise—"

"Father, I—"

"Promise to avenge me!"

Arthur looked down at his father, the confusion on his face clearing. Merlin watched on, too scared to move or even breathe, trying and failing to be brave. Arthur was the only person he'd lay down his life for, the only person he'd destroy himself for. If Arthur promised his father he'd end Merlin's life—

"You have been avenged," Arthur said, his breath coming out in a rush. "The Wizards responsible have met their death."

"Your Highness," Gaius said, glancing at Merlin, but otherwise not reacting to the conversation between the King and Prince. He leaned across Uther's body, trying without success to pull the King's hands from his son's body. "You must calm yourself—"

"Where is he? He must—" Uther's eyes flitted around in his head, searching, searching—

Oh_, Merlin glanced at Arthur, seeing the realization hit the Prince at the same time it hit him._

Uther was blind.

The King's face scrunched, rage coming off him like fire, registering Arthur's words; he barred his teeth, and Merlin looked at the King's heart quickening its beat, his lungs struggling for air. "You—you—will—"

The King spasmed, a full body shudder. Merlin looked at Arthur, as he felt Uther's heart slow. A last wet, sickly breath passed through Uther.

No sound entered the room.

"The King is dead," Merlin heard himself say, ugly and impassive to his own ears. He watched Arthur, studied the emotions (anguish, surprise, fear, so much fear) as they passed over his face. "Long live the King."

Arthur said nothing to Merlin, his head dropping to Uther's body only as the King's hands slipped from him. "No," he said, blank. "No, not like this."

Arthur jerked away from his father's body, gasping for air. "Not like this."  
Merlin walked around the table, grabbed Arthur's shoulders, forcing the King to look, to see. "Arthur—"

The Prince tossed him away, hard, and Merlin fell backward so fast, he banged into the examination table, the breath knocked right out of him.

"Stay away," Arthur said, pointing a finger at Merlin. "You—no_, you _did this. You—"__

"No," Merlin whispered, eyes burning, throat tight. He stood upright, stepped toward Arthur, tentative, hands outstretched in surrender. "I didn't, Arthur. I swear to you. Never—"

"Guards!" Arthur yelled. Like they never left, knights filled Gaius' chambers, their swords drawn on Merlin.

Arthur glared at him, breath coming in spurts, tell tale signs of the façade breaking. "Take him to the dungeons. I want triple guards on him. Make sure he doesn't try to escape."

Merlin met Arthur's enraged gaze full on. "Do with me what you will, sire."

Arthur flinched, taking a step toward him. "My will is for this to never have happened," he hissed, eyes filled to the brim with anger, tears. But Merlin saw the trace amount of regret, fear, and knowledge.

Merlin dropped his eyes, unable to look at Arthur any longer. He knew Arthur was going to say that. "Anything else," he uttered to the ground, fully aware of Arthur hanging on his every word. "And you could have had it."

"I know," Arthur replied, his voice filled with an emotion Merlin didn't recognize. He didn't lift his head.

The knights swooped in and took his arms, shackles clasping around his wrists a moment later.

"Get out of my sight."

oOo__

He waited until he was in the cell to release that last little bit of magic, breaking the spell.

Morgana and Gwen arrived first.

"He hasn't built a pyre for you yet," Morgana said, eyes darted to and fro, body trembled, skin pale and shining with sweat. "He's been busy with the funeral."

Morgana's fear of her own powers was palpable.

Merlin blinked at her, trying to reconcile the woman he'd talked to (kissed, unfortunately) the previous evening, with the scared child before him now. Their abilities had always mixed oddly. "Arthur has more important things to do," he said, just to have something to say. Though, he was positive Arthur had compartmentalized everything, and soon enough, he'd address the issue of his manservant-turned-wizard when time allowed.

"How'd you conceal yourself for so long?" Gwen blurted. Anxious, she came close to the bars, her arms still wrapped protectively around Morgana as she guided the lady closer.

Merlin knew the question was coming, he'd just hoped it would come from Arthur. He shrugged, blithe. "I concealed myself for as long as I needed to. I was lucky before." And if he was perfectly honest with himself (which he tried to avoid as much as possible), he'd admit he was lucky here, too. He'd succeeded in keeping his secret safe from Uther. Or, an Uther who had been unable to dole out the death penalty. If he had any chance of living, it would be through Arthur. Arthur who, despite his father's dying wish, refused to guarantee Merlin would die.

Merlin's heart skipped a beat, hopeful. He trusted Arthur; had no other choice.

"You saved the King's life!" Gwen blurted, turning pink. She could always be counted to come to the rescue. "You delayed it, at least. And you stopped those Wizard's from doing more damage. Arthur must know this."

Merlin smiled, grim. "Arthur has all the knowledge he needs, Gwen." He reached between the bars and patted her shoulder. "Don't worry about me, alright? Take care of Arthur. He needs you," he glanced at Morgana's fearful face. "Both of you."

"We will," Morgana vowed, some of the fear leaving her face. "And we'll make sure you are freed—"

"No," Merlin cut in, putting a tinge of heat into his answer. "I'm fine, Morgana. Just take care of Arthur. Be there for him."

She nodded, reaching through the bars with shaking fingers, grasping Merlin's wrist. He shuddered as gold lit her eyes, the magic of it running over his skin like it was his own. "I promise you, Merlin, it will all be right, in the end."

A weight lifted. All the frustration, and most of the uncertainty left Merlin. He sighed, tears springing to his eyes. "Thank you, Morgana. I'm glad I made the right decision."

Morgana nodded, eyes flashing gold again. She frowned, yanking her hand away. "You will be released, Merlin. You did nothing wrong."

Merlin sighed again, for an entirely different reason. This Morgana was going to be tiring. "That's up to Arthur to decide, but thanks."

One of the guards at the end of the hall cleared his throat. Morgana jumped while Gwen looked over her shoulder. "Come, m'lady," Gwen said, turned back to them, giving Merlin a hopeful smile and a brief squeeze of his hands through the bars. "The sooner we leave, the sooner we can help Merlin."

Merlin watched them skitter past the guards, shoulders hunched under the torches, their feet fast and silent.

Things were complicated, now. Life wouldn't be easy for them, Gwen and Morgana. Lancelot (when he returned three springs from now) and Leon. Gwen and Lancelot, Morgana and Leon.

Whatever true peace those couples could have had died with Uther Pendragon, and, unfortunately, couldn't be resurrected in Arthur. If Arthur fulfilled Fate's demands.

And as Arthur Pendragon's jailer, it was up to Merlin to make sure he did. The debt must be paid—Merlin's debt, and Arthur was the only one to do it.

Sir Leon visited him next. Merlin expected that.

"Have you had a chance to console your lady love?" Merlin goaded before Leon could get a word in edgewise, unable to keep the bite out of his voice.

Leon walked up to the bars, his hands behind his back, eyes both shadowed by the night and troubled. "You don't like me," he said, searching Merlin's face. "We used to get on, not too long ago."

True, life had been so much easier not too long ago. Merlin agreed, in theory. But really, this life couldn't get more hard.

Merlin shook his head, stepping back from the bars and standing under the cell's window, knowing well what the night's stars did to him under weak light. Shadows, curiosity, fear and distraction: a magician's signature. "It's not really about disliking you," Merlin said at length. "I don't understand you."

Leon placed both hands on the bars, peering into the cell. "I—"

"She kissed me, earlier." Merlin waved a hand in the air, replaying the night's events in a globe similar to the one he'd used on accident so long ago with Arthur and the mortis flower. "How does that make you feel?"

Leon gripped the bars tight, though his face stayed impassive as Merlin studied him. Merlin blinked. He hadn't been expecting that—for Leon to not come in defense of Morgana's honor.

"Why are you doing this?" Leon asked, his honest confusion ringing in Merlin's ears. "And not—not tonight," Leon whispered, glancing about him, settling back on Merlin. "We've talked. You encouraged me to pursue her, you know_—"_

"If Morgana's in her right mind, she'll turn you down, and she'll do it soon." Merlin said, not ashamed of his role reversal. "Leon, she can't be with you—there's more than just love, or, or rank involved in this. It's impossible—"

"We'll make a way." In the light, it was hard to see Leon's resolute face, but luckily, Merlin hadn't needed the light to see many things for many years. "We're destined to be together, the lady and I."

Merlin snorted, throwing his arms in the air, he paced the length of the small cell before he registered it happened. He sounded, for all the world, bitter and dejected, and after what happened earlier, he felt completely justified. "To God, I hope you're not. What a horrible life—"

"Merlin," Leon hissed, looking both scared and curious. "What's happened to you? You've never been— You're not the same."

"I am the same," Merlin shot back, striding across the cell, meeting Leon's eyes. "I'm the same_."_

Merlin stepped away, his mouth slackening. He looked at Leon, registered the knight watching him closely. "Leon, why are you here?" Merlin drawled, watching Leon stiffen at his name. "You think I have answers, don't you?"

Leon sighed, leaning away from the bars, eyes falling to the hay and waste covered floor. "What is wrong with Morg—"

"I do have the answers," Merlin said, feeling wild, out of control, desperate. Where was Arthur?_ "But they're not for you, and you'll never get them from me."_

"Then I'll wait for Morgana to tell me," Leon growled.

Merlin laughed, let a little (or a lot) of the desperation he'd been feeling reach his eyes. "You'll wait a long time."

"At least I'll have no regrets."

Merlin flinched, staring at Leon. Those six words pulled Merlin back into focus, reminding him, irrevocably, why he was in the cell that moment, why he should not use his magic until Arthur saw him. Now wasn't the time for hysterics, not if he didn't want regrets.

Thankful, Merlin nodded, his good regard for Leon, which a moment ago, had seemed so far away, came back. "I'm sorry, I was out of line. Thanks for—"

"Thank me once you're free." Leon shrugged, releasing the bars. "By the way, look around you, Merlin. I know you like to think you know the Pri—the King better than anyone, but, if you think for a moment Arthur would do away with you, you don't know him at all."

With a nod, Leon left, never looking back. He didn't need to. The knight needed no reassurance that Arthur would do the right thing.

It was Merlin who needed to remember that.

Merlin took Sir Leon's advice, looking about him.

His cell wasn't the best of the dungeons, but hardly the worst. Sufficiently lit (at least to him, it was hard to tell what was well lit, these days) with torches, and though he could smell the human around him, there was none in the cell with him. He wasn't heavily guarded, not in the least. Two guards at the end of the corridor, the usual contingent up the stairs and leading to the more populated parts of the castle.

Hardly the detail of guards surrounding a Sorcerer imprisoned for murdering the King of Albion.

Did Arthur…?

Merlin scratched his head, utterly perplexed. Why was Leon in Morgana's life? What part would he play at the end?

Things like that—people like Leon—were rare; so rare, in fact, that Merlin was half convinced it would be better to for them not to have been born. There was no telling how Leon being with Morgana would affect the future.

Morgana didn't need distractions, or things to keep her attached to Camelot, Albion, or anything. She needed to concentrate so she could help, when the time came to act in Arthur's behalf. She wasn't herself at all, and if she was to be here now, she needed to be of use, and—

And_, if Merlin even thought about doing something to Leon, Morgana would have more than just his head. Merlin was responsible for Morgana and the ones she loved. Always. If Merlin wanted to save Arthur, it was in his best interests to help Morgana. Always Morgana._

oOo__

He liked to have thought Gaius would have stayed away, if he knew what was good for him. Of course, Gaius didn't.

"Tell me," Gaius said on the other side of the cell, his inquiry no inquiry at all. "Why you're alive in front of me, and not burning on a pyre in the courtyard."

Merlin ducked his head, eyes burning. "Arthur and I are close. He would never—"

"As far as he and the court are concerned, you are the King's assassin. What did you do?"

Merlin looked at his mentor, feeling his stare. Gaius looked old, tired and broken. If Merlin ever loved the former king, it was the case for Gaius multiple times over. The life Gaius lived as Uther Pendragon's royal physician and closest friend was no lie. And unlike Merlin, Gaius was able to see past Uther's crown, past his mistakes. Something Merlin wasn't able to do, even as Merlin was the person who caused Uther's most despicable traits.

The levels in which Merlin let Uther down were monumental.

"A calming spell," Merlin answered Gaius, shoulders hunched, voice barely above the sound of his breathing. "It was simple, really. I—"

"How could you, Merlin?" Gaius near-shouted. "What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking I wanted Arthur to have time," Merlin said, hoarse. He looked at Gaius, tried to gauge his reaction, gained nothing, as Gaius' face was as blank as slate. "It needed to be done. That's the least I could do for him. He needed time to process, and I don't want him to live in regret."

"Did you place the entire castle under the spell?" Gaius said after a moment, squinting at Merlin, incredulous. "You've never shown that sort of…subtle, power before. Have you been preparing for such a circumstance?"

"It would make sense if I did," Merlin answered, shaking his head. "But no, I just thought it was a good idea at the time, and, erm, thinking it, made it so."

"Are you saying," Gaius stepped close to the bars, as Morgana, Gwen and Leon had, though he kept his hands behind his back. He peered at Merlin in the scant light. "You thought the spell, and it manifested?"

There were a few ways Merlin could answer. One, he could lie, and like at the Isle of the Blessed (though, at the time, he hadn't known he was), claim ignorance, and let Gaius assume it was all a lucky little accident. But Merlin couldn't pretend to be untrained like he had in his first year under Gaius' tutelage. Hadn't been untrained, of a sort, since right after he met Freya—well, after he remembered—and realized that what he did to Freya out of love, started a series of events that he was powerless to stop without Morgana. He'd known, deep down, what he did to Freya. There was no way he could convince Gaius that he hadn't known what he was doing despite Gaius' general disbelief.

Two, he could avoid answering by changing the subject—how he made the spell—though, now that he remembered, it would be a stumble to explain how he did the spell when for him, it wasn't a spell. But it would intrigue Gaius with the practicalities of the spell, and Merlin could keep distracting Gaius, if he was diligent. Though, Merlin doubted he could do it long term.

Merlin grimaced, turned away from Gaius and paced the cell's floor, buying himself some time. He wasn't good for long term avoidance. But Gaius wouldn't be alive much longer; eight months, and he would die in his sleep. Merlin didn't have the same finesse Morgana would develop soon, to see the future, but now unfortunately, he could match her strength.

Three, he could tell Gaius everything. Everything. His urge to see his mother a few weeks ago, coming back a changed man with a mission. The lives he'd cost the world, the fates he'd destroyed, the weight on his shoulders—being the man who caused them, but not the man able to fix them.

It would destroy the image Gaius had of him. How could it not? Yes, the situation had changed, but Merlin hadn't—not deep down inside him where it mattered—, no matter how much he might wish it.

And that person wasn't who Gaius knew.

But, truth be told, Merlin was lonely (they all were, he and his siblings; not that they'd admit it so freely). And if he was allowed one thing, he wished it was someone who knew him; someone who kept his secret. Even if Gaius hated him for it.

"Yes, I thought the spell." Merlin said, stopped his pacing at the center of the cell. He looked at Gaius. "If I didn't cast a calming spell, Arthur would've been too busy trying to kill me to spend time with his father."

Gaius nodded, watching Merlin. "I'm thankful you're still alive. And that you gave Arthur time with his father that you didn't have with your own."

Merlin didn't flinch. The time when he wished he'd been able to get to know Balinor passed over a month ago. Merlin had no personal regrets when he thought of Balinor, only that the Dragonlord could have had the life he'd wanted with Hunith, if Merlin had not interfered.

Besides, it was hard to imagine having a father figure. In the time he'd known Balinor, the man was gentle, knowledgeable and loving. And, if Merlin did have a father, he wished he would be like Balinor. But wishing for things that irrelevant, was a horrible waste of time.

"Really, it was the least I could do."Merlin shrugged, stepped close to the bars, observed Gaius. "Look at me, Gaius."

Gaius raised a brow, as was his habit when Merlin acted strange. "I am, Merlin."

"Mm," Merlin tilted his head, raised his own brow in return. "No, you're not. Look_ at me, Gaius. There's something you need to see."_

Gaius stopped categorizing Merlin's reaction to his words, and looked him in the eye. Gaius made a sound in his throat; the one Merlin always associated with curiosity, and pressed his face into the bars. "There's, this…" Gaius frowned. "This—"

"Yes," Merlin said, voice cracking. "If you look deeper, you'll find what you're looking for."

It hurt, seeing the changes appear on Gaius' face as he watched Merlin's life replay on his pupils, where the truth remained the same. To see the disbelief bleed to surprise, lead to understanding, turn to fear, and finally, settle on the cold facts.

He would never forget this day. And not because it was the day the world saw the end of Uther Pendragon's reign, but because of the loss of the only father figure Merlin had ever truly known. How could he be like a son to Gaius, when everything Gaius knew about Merlin was a lie?

Merlin mourned, but only for a moment. There wasn't much time for it.

Gaius jerked away, jaw slack, his heart beating fast and loud to Merlin's ears. "But how can that be?"

"How can any of this be?" Merlin said, forcing lightness into his tone. "It's all a bit of a mystery."

"I don't mean to offend," Gaius said, pulling his robes about him, stiff, formal, addressed Merlin as if he was a member of the court and not the boy he'd mentored. Merlin had expected as much. Gaius folded his hands in front of him. "But you're lying."

Merlin smirked, conceding the point to Gaius. "That I am."

Gaius made that humming noise in his throat again, though it had a undercurrent of anger. "You could leave this cell at any moment."

"True," Merlin conceded again, studying the cell bars between them instead of Gaius. "But I'm here for Arthur and will do whatever he wants. He's the only one who matters."

"Now, you mean." Gaius didn't keep the anger out of his voice, Merlin noted, as he shifted on his feet, his aged robes swaying silently. "He wasn't the one who mattered, before."

Merlin stared at the floor. "Yes."

"There isn't much time," Gaius said. Merlin continued to look at the floor. "Are you sure you can—"

"Don't."Merlin looked at Gaius, giving the older man an once-over. "You've seen it now."

"Is he really that important?" Gaius asked at length, his voice giving nothing away, implacable as always. Though this time, missing the warmth.

"Deathly so," Merlin said, a wry smile blooming on his face.

Gaius stared at him, his brows and fingers moving ever so slightly, his eyes searching Merlin's.

Merlin lifted his chin, prepared himself for the inevitable. "I know you want to ask, so go ahead."

"You—Merlin—"Gaius said, wasting no time getting to the point. "Weren't going through a rough spot; you hadn't changed. He—Merlin—never was."

"I am Merlin, Gaius." He answered just as fast as he had with Leon, coming close and grabbing the bars. "I've never not_ been Merlin. Don't you understand?"_

"I understand that you want to believe that," Gaius intoned impassively. He swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing. "What does all this mean for Arthur? What will you do?"

"Any and everything," Merlin answered, hearing the sureness of the statement ringing in his own ears. "It's still my job to protect Arthur, and that's what I'll do."

He'd vowed to protect Arthur and no matter what Arthur thought or felt, that would remain the same.

There were no other options.


	2. Part 2

3.

Logically, where Uther Pendragon was, his son was also. Unfortunately, that didn't seem to be the case this time around. In all of Uther's lifetimes, he never possessed an inkling of magical ability. For Merlin, Uther's complete mundane-ness was both a blessing and a curse. It made the king predictable, given there was little to no chance that he'd whisk himself off to destroy a dragon with magic. On the other hand, because Uther hated magic later on, it made it near impossible for Merlin to protect Uther behind his back.

The only time Uther used magic willingly (well, the time it counted), was with Arthur. And even then, after Igraine's death and Nimueh's betrayal, Uther regretted it, and thus legend was born.

Anyway, Uther was mundane and Merlin was pretty sure the former King of Camelot would always be destined to be mundane. Merlin had no power over mundanes, and if Uther was rebirthed, Merlin was stuck searching for the man the old fashioned way. Though, if Morgana were here—

No, she wasn't an option. Not yet. Hopefully never.

"Don't know why you're in such a strop about it," Archie said, flying just above Merlin's head as they left the General Records Office in Southport, and teleported post haste their home in Surrey, where they'd set up camp three months before. Merlin landed them in the living room, and headed for the kitchen, Archimedes glided after him.

"Seems it would be a burden lifted if Uther wasn't round; you should be relieved." Archie continued, landing on the center-most island in the large, restaurant style, kitchen.

"I am," Merlin returned with a sigh, opening the door to his fridge, peering at its pathetically bare contents. He sighed again. "But I hate the idea I've ran out of time." _That Uther died thinking I betrayed him. Again._

"Chin up, Harry Potter," Archimedes said, gratingly chipper, blinking his gold eyes at Merlin from the counter-top, apparently ignoring Merlin's glower. "Yes, time is running out. Yes, you're fretting about Uther's feelings, but really, for you time is relative. And I'm sure if Uther was mad at you—_if_ being the key word, he might not remember anything, for all we know, and that's more likely than you spontaneously deciding to tell the world to sod off—he'd be mad at you for something else, because he's most likely mad, either way."

Merlin scrunched his face, slowly absorbing Archimedes words. "Was that you trying to cheer me up?"

Archie huffed, flapping his wings, glaring at Merlin. "I'm the sunshine of your life. All I give you is cheer and joy."

Merlin blinked, closing the fridge. "Right," he drawled, biting back a grin. "Just—let's not try that again, alright? You know how badly it goes when you try new things."  
Archie's beak opened and closed soundlessly. He scowled at Merlin. "Tosser."

"See," Merlin said between chuckles. "You are my sunshine and cheer."

oOo

Not only had Hunith never been reborn, it looked like her family line ended with her.

"How did I not catch that?" Merlin snarled at Archie while he glared at the ceiling of his bedroom. "She had a bit of magic—couldn't have raised me otherwise. I should've known."

"You've been preoccupied, as of late," Archie supplied. Merlin followed the owl's voice. Archie was perched on the nook by one of the bedroom windows, staring out at the dreary day. "And what could you have done back then? Magicked her a child to pass on her line? From the way you talk about her, she seemed to have had full hands with you. I'm sure she was satisfied."

"That doesn't change the fact that today's world would be brighter if even the littlest piece of Hunith was here."

"Well," Archie harrumphed, turning to Merlin, a challenging gleam in his gold eyes. "Then you're going to have to fill her shoes."

"That," Merlin admitted, smiling at Archie, "is the challenge of a hundred lifetimes."

oOo

_He was caged for three weeks before Arthur saw him._

_A blast of frigid water splashed Merlin, waking him violently from fitful rest. The Prin—King's manservant or not, Arthur hadn't given Merlin any obvious special privileges while he waited for judgment. In fact, Merlin was mostly sure the guards had removed most of the hay and pad in his cell before tossing him in. Though, they didn't ridicule him or withhold his daily meals. Like he'd realized once Leon pointed it out, Arthur hadn't done anything to Merlin—nothing good or bad. Merlin was just in limbo, waiting._

_But, things had changed._

_Merlin choked on his breath, the water so cold it seemed to freeze the air he inhaled. He sputtered, crawling to the opposite corner of the cell as another splash hit him. The water followed him, and after the fifth onslaught Merlin stopped moving, bracing himself._

_Yes, he could have warmed the water—stopped it, even—but what good would that do? Arthur already had a taste of what he could do, but didn't know his manservant would only follow him. His power was Arthur's to use. If he evaporated the water, balked against the assault, Arthur would hear about it (Merlin was sure—the guards were good observers, and he doubted Arthur didn't hear about his every move)and there was a high chance he would never believe Merlin when he declared fealty. Now was not the time to resist Arthur, not when what happened between them would set the tone for the rest of Arthur's life._

_The incursion of water ceased, and before Merlin could take a breath, the cell doors creaked. Two grim faced guards lifted him by the arms and pulled out daggers, set about cutting Merlin's tunic and breeches. He fought the urge to protest, to fight back, sure any resistance he put forth would find its way back to Arthur's ears. Once they had him naked, they yanked off what was left of his shoes, throwing them and the rest of his useless garments into a corner._

_The guards dragged him out the cell, naked, by his elbows. His knees scrapped against the stone floor. Merlin would've worked up a blush (he still did it, even as he neared his thirties), if the blood in his body hadn't seemed so sluggish, if he wasn't sluggish from lack of proper nutrition—despite the three meals daily._

_Merlin was taken down a series of dark corridors so winding, he had no idea how deep or far the guards carried him. He knew the castle well, but being starved and suffering from black outs from lack of sleep and stress, plagued against his already poor sense of direction._

_Finally, after what felt like hours, the guards stopped. The hall was pitch black—no, it was lit with tiny candles, he'd just closed his eyes—and smelled fetid, looking endless and utterly bleak._

_The guard on his left side loosened his grip long enough to open something—a door, apparent by the squeak of a rusty hinge—and they both tossed Merlin inside a dark, dank cell._

_"Clothes are against the wall. Dress," one of the guards said, alto tone emotionless. "The Prince will see you."_

_Merlin lifted his head and watched the guards shuffle out of the room. The door slammed shut with a clank, sending the room back into darkness. He wasn't able to see the candelabra burning outside the room, but he was sure it was there. Otherwise, it would most likely mean it would be a while before Arthur showed himself—if that was the plan._

_Merlin didn't use magic. Instead, he crawled (been a while since he'd needed the use of his legs) until he came against a wall, and felt around on the ground. After a timeless search, his fingers fell on rough material. Merlin sighed, relieved, tears coming to his eyes. He dressed, struggling a bit with the breeches, his legs uninterested in participating. There were no shoes or socks._

_Dressed, Merlin stretched his legs out in front of him, his back against the wall._

_He waited._

_Merlin had only one chance, this time, to get Arthur to understand—to face Arthur's rage and overcome it. Yes, they'd saved each other's lives, and Merlin could categorize each one, letting Arthur see how much Merlin did for him, how much both benefitted from magic—_

_But, that particular plan would have worked if Uther Pendragon hadn't died. Arthur was never rational when it came to his father. Merlin knew all too well what it was like to put Uther Pendragon above everything else, and he wouldn't expect Arthur to act any different. Arthur was who he was; many things defined him, and whether Merlin liked it or not, how Arthur dealt with Uther's idea of fatherhood was a part of it, and played a large part in his outlook on life._

_If only this Uther had deserved Arthur's loyalty. A good king was Uther Pendragon. A friend to magic and a perfect father, he was not._

_The moment Merlin's magic was revealed and Uther died because of his inaction, any other options to explain his circumstances went to dust. This was his first and last chance to get the magical ban lifted. Either the ban would be lifted, or Merlin would die._

_He'd lost the hope Morgana, Gwen, and Leon had instilled in him three weeks ago. No, Arthur hadn't lit him on a pyre, but the alternative wasn't looking good. Merlin shivered, his skin icy and getting scratched by his clothes. He didn't want to end up like Kilgharrah. There were many ways that could happen, if Arthur took after his father. If that were the case, Arthur becoming like his father, Merlin wouldn't need Morgana: it would already be too late._

_The door opened, bringing in the light from the hallway. Merlin didn't know how long it'd been (refused to access his magic to do it, as hard as that was). The room had no windows. He averted his eyes from the light, as dim as it was. It—_

_"Why didn't you leave?"_

_Arthur._

_Merlin lifted his head, blinked at the torch his—the King—held in his right hand, the firelight revealing cold, dead eyes._

_"You're my King—"_

_"I heard what that Sorcerer said. I'm only your—King—because you let my father die."_

_Merlin chewed on his tongue, ate the denial that rose._

_Arthur gave Merlin his back, walking about the room and lighting the other torches, as if daring Merlin to attack him. Or, Merlin hoped, proving to himself that Merlin wouldn't hurt him, that letting Merlin live for the last three weeks was the right decision._

_Merlin didn't move a muscle._

_"Well?" Arthur inquired, standing at Merlin's feet once he'd finished lighting the room, his eyebrow raised, imperious, solemn._

_This would hurt them, Merlin knew, this truth. But worst of all, it would hurt Arthur and the view he had of his manservant. Much like how he'd destroyed Gaius' view of him not too long ago. Though Merlin had no plans of ever telling Arthur what he told Gaius (it wasn't about trust, it was about protection, and the pact Merlin made), there still had to be a level of honesty between them, if they were ever to continue. If there was ever a chance for Merlin to save Arthur's life, debt or not._

_Merlin looked Arthur in the eye, his heart beating rapidly, his emotions raging inside him like a storm. He wanted to be selfish, to do just this one thing for himself. But, in the scheme of things, what Merlin wanted had never mattered._

_Their friendship would never be the same; but, sacrifices had to be made._

_"Yes," Merlin said, watching Arthur, his heart breaking. "I let your father die."_

_Arthur's eyes widened. He laughed, bitter, hollow and tasteless, throwing the torch at the wall, just above Merlin's head. It bounced off the wall and rolled to a stop by the door, hissing out as it rested in a small puddle of putrid water._

_"What you did—what you _chose to do_—has haunted me for weeks without peace." Arthur glared down at him, a storm of his own brewing on his face; eyes like lightning, mouth like thunder. "I thought surely you would tell me it was all an accident, that the Sorcerer was lying. You hesitated—I saw it, Merlin. Are you saying it wasn't an accident?"_

_The hesitation to kill the wizard could've been an accident. But it wasn't, not really._

_He'd forgotten how relentless Arthur could be in their time apart. He shouldn't have._

_"He said your loyalty rested with me and not father," Arthur continued, thankfully, before Merlin could come up with the truth._

_"You're my King," Merlin said, struggling to his feet, tired of having this conversation without proper footing._

_"That's treason, Merlin." Arthur balked, stepping away from him. "You can't say that."_

_"It's not treason anymore," Merlin snarled, anger and impatience bubbling out of him like a infected sore. "You're King now, and that's all that matters."_

_Arthur jerked, as if Merlin struck him. The former Prince blinked at him, his mouth working. "What happened to you?" he hissed, looking confused. "A month before father—before father left—you say you're going to visit your mum. You come back to Camelot not a day after you left, like _this_. I noticed before, but you didn't say anything and now I see why."_

_Merlin stepped closer to Arthur, noticed Arthur reach for his sword and stopped his approach._

_Arthur was scared, Merlin realized. Of him._

_Merlin retreated until his back touched the wall, his hands at his side, letting his face do all the talking._

_Arthur's eyes racked over him, resting on Merlin's own eyes the longest. He released his hold on his sword._

_"Something happened," Merlin whispered into the stretch of silence, dropping his eyes to his feet. "And…I woke up." And realized, not only were large parts of his life a lie, but that he'd wasted a _lot_ of time._

_"Did something happen to Hunith?" Arthur stepped closer, concern etched across his features. "It's been years, but have the remnants of Kanan's men tried another attack?"_

_He'd never made it to Ealdor. Merlin risked a smile. "No, she's fine, Ealdor's protected by Camelot's border patrol, still."_

_"Then what happened?"_

_Arthur sounded so earnest; Merlin suppressed the sigh, gaining hope from the lengths Arthur was making to fix their problems._

_"Nothing, really," Merlin lied as he promised himself this would be one of the last lies he told his friend for a long while. The secrets could save Arthur's life. "I just…have a lot to make up for."_

_Arthur clearly didn't accept his answer. He closed his eyes, squeezing the bridge of his nose with his left hand, breathing—something Merlin hadn't seen in a while and kind of missed, actually. These days, Arthur had rare occasion to be irritated with Merlin. "Why didn't you save him?" Arthur whispered, face lifting and looking at Merlin. There was a vulnerability present Merlin had seen only three times before: twice when Arthur talked about Gwen, once with Uther._

_Everything was wrong. Uther hating magic to his death was wrong; Morgana being in Camelot, being present now, was abysmally wrong and would likely make everything worse, but Merlin had to choose between Morgana and Arthur, and by choosing Morgana, it meant a chance to save Arthur. Because it meant there was still hope._

_"It was never about saving him," Merlin said, the anger at the situation finally appearing. It had been a risk, letting Uther die, but he believed Fate would change his mind and intervene for Arthur's sake, if not for anyone else. That had been another option instead of using Morgana, though a weak one. He'd thought Fate wouldn't hold Merlin's transgressions against Arthur—no, Fate and Merlin's transgressions. He'd been wrong. Either way, Uther had to die. "I was giving Fate a chance to fix things. He failed me, and I'll never trust Fate again."_

_"You went against fate," Arthur blinked, folding his arms over his chest. "_Fate_."_

_Merlin nodded, bothered by Arthur's increasing grimace. "I lost," he pushed off the wall. "I'm sorry."_

_Arthur didn't shy away from him, but the king did shake his head. "It's too late for sorry. The court blames you for father's death, no matter who did it," he said, the anger seeming to deflate out of him until he was more strident than full of rage. "And you could have saved him."_

_It didn't matter that Uther would've had Merlin's head regardless, that even as he died, he called for Merlin's death despite Merlin killing the ones responsible. Nor did it matter that it was actually Merlin who avenged Uther's death._

_"Yes, I shouldn't have gambled with Uther's life," was all Merlin could say about that. He stepped closer to Arthur, an arm's length away. "This is my fault; all of it," he said, vision blurring, apologizing not at all for what Arthur thought, but needing to apologize nonetheless. "I'm to blame and no one else. I should've known—seen this coming."_

_Arthur glared at him, seething. "It's not that simple. I can't just put you in the stocks and be done with it—"_

_"I'll honor whatever sentence you choose. Even death."_

_"You're my _best friend_. I—"Arthur flinched under the torchlight, dropping his eyes, color infusing his face. "I can't kill you," he finished weakly, sounding bitter._

_Merlin felt his ears warm. "Yeah," he cleared his throat, nodding all the while. "You're my best friend, erm, too."_

_He was twenty-six this time round, Arthur twenty-five. He would've thought they could admit to not hating each other and being friends _before_ he was on tried for treason and magic use. Nothing was ever easy with them. Merlin blamed Fate._

_"Is it because you don't trust me?"_

_It was whispered, took Merlin a moment to realize the unsure, scared voice had actually come from Arthur. The king watched him, blue eyes glittering. "Maybe if you'd told me earlier—"_

_"Your father." Merlin met Arthur's eyes. He didn't really think he had to say more._

_Arthur's mouth clamped shut so sharply, Merlin heard the _click_ of his teeth._

_"It was never about you, and it had nothing to do with trust," Merlin said as reassuring as possible without getting in Arthur's face and shaking him around a bit. "You're the only person I'll ever be able to trust to stop me. I didn't want to force you to choose between me and your father—"_

_"_Idiot_," Arthur hissed, voice wrecked and broken, closing his eyes as if the sight of Merlin could send him into a rage. "I already chose."_

_Merlin closed his mouth, frowned, blinked, back-tracking mentally to three weeks before._

_"Like I told father," Arthur opened his eyes, the words coming out between his clenched teeth. "The ones responsible have already been dealt with."_

_The room spun and Merlin tipped forward. Thankfully, Arthur was there to steady him. The king had both hands on his shoulders like a warm weight._

_"Oh," Merlin said weakly. He'd known, but doubt had set in. "Alright."_

_Arthur squeezed his shoulders, hard, knocking Merlin out of his daze._

_He'd had it all wrong, Arthur's presence. It was never about the treason or the magic._

_"If I'd known about you—before—would you have struck the wizard first if I'd asked?"_

_"Yes."Merlin didn't have to think about it. Fate, Destiny and the future had nothing on Arthur Pendragon. "You're my King, Magic's here for you, if you want it, and _I'm_ here, and—"_

_"Shut up, _please_," Arthur groaned, the beginnings of a smile blooming on his face. "And here I was, afraid I'd never see you bumble again."_

_Merlin flinched, dropped his eyes before Arthur tried to search them. He forced a smile. "You'll never regret your decision."_

_Arthur sighed, releasing his hands from Merlin's shoulders. "I don't plan to," he agreed, though Merlin knew their regrets wouldn't be for the same reasons._

_"Do you blame me? For your father?" He knew he shouldn't push Arthur so soon (especially as things seemed to have leveled between them), but it couldn't be helped. Besides, their relationship had never been an easy one. It was wrought with arguments, high emotions and steady companionship._

_Arthur didn't answer at first. Instead, he picked up the torch he'd thrown and turned back to Merlin, studying the thing in his hands. "You know I do," Arthur muttered, finally looking at Merlin. "If you hadn't been able to stop it—it's hard to place blame on the right persons." He huffed, clearing his throat, glancing away from Merlin for a moment. "But the idea of blaming you for the rest of our lives seems like a waste of time."_

_Merlin nodded, a bit surprised Arthur admitted so much. They both knew Arthur equated expressing his feelings with a tortuous, horrible death. But—"I want to pledge fealty to you, right now."_

_Arthur's eyes bulged a bit, but the king recovered quickly. "I'm not King yet—alright," he said, grimacing at Merlin. "This should be done in front of witnesses, just so you know."_

_Merlin shrugged. "This isn't really about witnesses," he chastised, glaring a bit at Arthur as he knelt, not taking the chance the king would change his mind. "This is about me pledging myself to you, as friends."_

_"What about your magic?" Arthur said, a quiet sort of curiosity coloring his question._

_"I, Merlin," he began, staring up at Arthur, his heart thumping along. Magic coated his skin and rising like steam, filled the air around him and Arthur with golden fire. "Pledge my life to Arthur Pendragon, to serve him, protect him, and be his friend until my last day on this soil."_

_The magic whirled around them, covering both Merlin and Arthur in it like a cloth. Arthur squinted at him, falling to his knees in front of Merlin, seemingly against his will—it was the magic at work, Merlin could see it._

_"I pledge magic to your use," he continued, smiling at Arthur and his gob smacked expression. "To do with it what you will. I pledge my friendship, so you'll never have to worry about being alone, or hurting someone's feelings when you can't suppress your arrogance and poor manners any longer."_

_Arthur scoffed, his hands landing on Merlin's shoulders, shoving him gently without removing his hands. "Are you sure you aren't talking about someone else?"_

_"And to always, always do whatever it takes to make the life you have left as pleasant as possible," Merlin finished just as his throat closed. He dipped his head, wiping his eyes, the tears that sprung there gone before Arthur could see them. He hissed then, the magic around them heating his skin, binding him and Arthur together irrevocably._

_He heard Arthur gasp, and he looked up, saw the magic enter Arthur's body through his mouth like water pouring into a basin. Arthur closed his eyes, swaying on his knees as the magic flowed all over him, through him—the excess of it coming out of Arthur's skin like sweat. After a moment, Arthur opened his eyes, looking just as he had not minutes before. Yet, Merlin felt closer to him, connected to the bit of magic that was inside Arthur._

_To Merlin, Arthur felt like a sibling._

_Merlin grimaced, inwardly cursing Fate. Of course—two sides of the same coin. The pledge he made to Arthur (that was meant for Uther) would make what came in the future—and especially if he couldn't save Arthur's life—so much harder to deal with if he failed._

_"Is that how it feels when you use it?"Arthur wheezed, interrupting Merlin and his thoughts._

_"Yes." Merlin said at length, unsure of how much to say. "It's not something you get used to." Unless you were Merlin, of course._

_Arthur studied him for a moment, the air around them light, carefree. Arthur ruffled his  
hair, smiling at him, fond, his other hand yanking Merlin forward and into a hug._

_"Thank you," Arthur said into Merlin shoulder, pulling away as quickly as he'd yanked Merlin to him, his blue eyes large and damp. "But, had I known you were this much of a girl, I would've thought twice about your treason."_

_It was still too soon to laugh about it, but Merlin understood the sentiment. He rolled his eyes, unabashedly using Arthur's shoulders to bring himself to his feet, ignoring Arthur's outraged squawk. "I'll make sure to work extra hard to be a senseless, warmongering, stab first and ask questions later, _buffoon_ in the future, sire."_

_Arthur laughed, throwing his head back and knocking the last dregs of magic in the air about. The sound curled around Merlin's chest as he enjoyed his friend's amusement._

_There weren't many days Arthur would be happy, thanks to Merlin. But, as his guardian of a sort, Merlin could make sure Arthur dealt with the fate thrown at him with as much knowledge and strength as possible._

_So, Merlin let Arthur laugh, vowing to make it happen again. After all, Arthur's days were most assuredly numbered._

4.

Being on scholarship at a private academy wasn't as great as it sounded.

Corbin didn't know how the other students knew, but the simple fact was, they did.

He wondered if there was a sign on his back or forehead, reading _POOR, ON SCHOLARSHIP, DOESN'T BELONG. CUE BULLIES_. People made snide comments since his first day.

Five years ago, when Arthur was seven, the bullies had seen it beneath them to actually hurt him (he guessed—the mind of a bully was a dangerous and empty place). He was thankful for it. Being beaten by your father daily was enough all by itself.

The bullies seemed content with words as their choice of violence, it seemed, and it lulled Corbin into a false sense of security. Sean, even Emmy, hadn't been spared of bullying and ridicule. Why him?

Well, at eleven, it seemed Corbin's luck ran out.

"Smith, where do you think you're going?"

Ms. Timmons held Corbin after school to go over Maths, and by the time she'd released him, satisfied with his progress, both Sean and Emmy's drivers had taken them home after he assured them he was fine taking the tube.

But on further contemplation, maybe that hadn't been a good idea.

Corbin looked down the empty wing of the academy in front of him, quietly kicking himself. The hallway wasn't overly long, but it might well have been several meters for all it mattered now. It was an idiot move to take the shortcut by the detention room. He was truly alone.

Corbin turned around, his rucksack heavy on his shoulders. "Home," he said, clenching his fists.

Borkis Forkovak was the King bully of Year Seven, and any year he entered, really. He wasn't originally from England, Borkis. Rumor had it he hailed from a land of giants. Possibly Iceland. Most likely Hell. He even scared some of the upper level students. He was big and squat, his face flat like someone took a brick to it, red-headed and covered head to toe in freckles. Borkis had the unfortunate circumstance to have been born with three times the cowlicks as the average boy at the academy (maybe the world, Corbin believed), and it made his head look like a utensil. He was known far and wide as Bork the Fork.

"Home?" Bork the Fork said, a scowl on his face like he couldn't understand the concept. Maybe he couldn't. Rumor had it Bork was on scholarship too (though, how he passed the entrance exam to the academy was beyond Corbin—maybe it was charity?), and even though scholarship didn't automatically mean you had a shit home life, maybe it did for Bork.

It certainly did for Corbin.

"Yeah," Corbin drawled, glancing about him for any form of escape.

Bork stepped closer, out of the shadows where he'd been laying in wait like they taught at bully school. He managed to tower over Corbin even with a few meters between them. "I heard," Bork growled like a boar, his voice unnaturally deep for his age—another unfortunate side effect of being from Hell and/or Iceland, "the only reason you're here is because your Mum is boffing Nicholas Ortiz's dad. Is that true?"

It was true Corbin didn't get into the academy on his own merit (what merit could he have had? He was _seven_ at the time). It was mainly because Corbin's Mum was Emmy's Mum's personal assistant at the law firm and Emmy's parents knew everyone.

Corbin didn't know Emmy's dad for bollocks, but he knew Nicholas, her older brother. Anyone who raised Nicholas couldn't be bad. Besides, his Mum wouldn't do that—she loved his dad, still. Emmy called his parents relationship things like _tragic, romantic_ and _wonderful_ frequently when she talked about his circumstances.

Emmy was stupid, sometimes, and often plagued with acting like her gender.

"My Mum's not a slag," Corbin said, stepping up to Bork the Fork, clenching his jaw. "If anyone's Mum's a slag, it's yours."

Bork's face mottled and he growled, he took a swing at Corbin's head.

Maybe he shouldn't have said that.

Corbin, for whatever reason, didn't step back, but raised his arm, protecting his face, and—  
Nothing happened.

Corbin lowered his arms slowly, peeking at Bork the Fork.

Bork's fist was still coming at him.

Corbin stepped out of Bork's reach, the bully's fist still aiming at where he had been, though, only halfway to its destination.

He stepped alongside Bork, waving his hands in his face and jumping up and down, getting no reaction, other than the slow motion play of what Bork's face had been up to when he'd struck out at him.

Corbin blinked, stepped back where he'd been the moment Bork decided to make things physical. He watched the near snail pace of Bork's movements, his mind whirling.  
_Oh_. Corbin grinned. _I'm Neo_.

The ball of energy in Corbin's chest pulsed against his ribcage, and as his fist connected with Bork's face, time returned to normal.

The fight was quick and dirty. Corbin used all the moves Sean's bodyguard taught them that one day Emmy was at that Gala, and every one of them _worked_.

Well, they were marginally successful, but since Bork couldn't catch up with him—time slowed every time Bork tried to land a punch—Corbin counted it as a win.

No one could touch him, Corbin realized as he watched Bork the Fork running away from him, blood and tears dripping down the hallway, but he could touch them.

Life at the academy came easier, after that.

_Any use of magic should be dealt with swiftly, son. Preferably with fire—we will not tolerate any magic in the land, no matter how small._

Well, for the most part.

oOo

Emmy and Sean didn't believe Corbin's tale. Not a word of it.

So, Corbin decided to demonstrate.

"This is the worst idea ever known to man," Sean complained as they traipsed through the wooded area behind Emmy's estate.

Corbin thought it would have been easier to show Emmy and Sean how Batman-like he was, but his friends were a tough crowd.

Honestly, it was all starting to get tedious.

"If you two hadn't sabotaged me, we wouldn't have to do this," Corbin said over his shoulder at Sean, who was lagging behind him and Emmy.

It wasn't an altogether warm day in January, but at least it wasn't raining. In order for Corbin's plan to work, the three of them needed to be away from prying eyes. Their destination wasn't too far from the estate, just out of yelling distance. But for Sean, the lazy slug, it might as well been in another country.

"There was a reason we hired Maury, Corbin," Emmy admonished next to Corbin as she stepped over a fallen log, her breath coming out in plumes around her. "He's a former MI5. Of course he's going to know how to drive the car round a prone body in the middle of the driveway."

Corbin scowled at her, betrayed. "_Sabotaged_."

"How much farther is it?" Sean said and screamed like a girl as he tripped over the log Corbin and Emmy deftly avoided not moments before.

"It's just a little bit further, just around the grouping of trees," Corbin said, pointing ahead about three meters past a small clearing and to a small copse of woods. He ignored Sean's antics, like usual. The git could trip over air.

"But there are trees bloody _everywhere_," Sean whined as he came to a stop in front of Corbin and Emmy. He threw his hands up and turned around in a quick circle, mouth twisted in disgust. "What makes those trees over there any different from the ones around us now?"

Corbin grinned. "The trees past the clearing have a hornet's nest."

"Worst idea known to man," Emmy groaned as she covered her face, her light brown curls falling into her face.

"No need to worry," Corbin said, trudging on to their destination. "I'll protect you."

"No, you mean you'll protect yourself," Sean said as he glared balefully at Corbin, finally seeing fit to keep pace with Corbin and Emmy. It was probably so Sean could see when it was best to run for his life.

Corbin rolled his eyes. "If I don't protect you lot, it won't be from lack of trying."  
Emmy snorted, Sean stuck out his tongue.

Corbin sighed. Really, he needed better friends.

"Here we are," Corbin said, chipper, if he said so himself—and he did. "I'm telling you, it'll be worth the walk."

Truth be told, the trees around them looked a whole lot like the ones they'd been walking past, except for the massive wasp's nest attached to the largest tree in the copse. It was a Wild Cherry, and the largest of the bunch of trees around it, the center of its trunk eye-level for Corbin, and it was hollowed out. Inside the tree's concave body was a hornet's nest that had to rival the world's largest nest _ever_. There were thousands of hornets buzzing around the tree, their noise and actions like a tuning fork against Corbin's skin. He shuddered. The bees gave them no mind, another sign, in Corbin's mind, he was meant to show his friends his abilities.

"We're going to die," Sean muttered beside him, sounding desolate and pathetic—something he'd picked up since he'd turned eleven.

"Stop complaining, clod. We're lucky I found this the other day during hide-and-seek. Bees aren't usually round this time of year," Corbin said as he looked at the forest floor for a strong branch. "It must be fate."

"Or a death wish," Sean countered under his breath, Emmy giggling with him a moment later.

"Maybe both." Corbin shrugged, attention occupied elsewhere. "Ah, brilliant." He walked the few paces to a collection of Ash trees, their dead branches appealing to him. Corbin picked up the sturdiest and shortest of the bunch of fallen branches, and jogged back to his waiting friends.

"What are you going to do?" Emmy asked, peering at Corbin, her eyes squinted.

Corbin raised a brow. "I'm going to hit the hornet's nest and let the bees attack me." And really, wasn't it obvious at this point?

Emmy blinked. "Pardon?"

Corbin gripped the branch like a bat. He swung at the hornet's nest with all his might.

Emmy and Sean screeched and jumped back just as the branch connected with the nest. They weren't quick enough.

Hornets erupted from the nest, their buzzing reaching their zenith as they charged at Corbin, Emmy and Sean, the insects seeming to know who their attackers were. And—

Nothing.

On both counts.

One, Corbin hadn't bothered to lift his arms in defense. It wouldn't have mattered either way; they were too close to the tree to avoid being stung. If the energy in his chest didn't enact, he and his friends were in for a world of pain.

The bees hit up against some sort of invisible barrier that popped up upon the branch's first contact with the nest. At least, that's what Corbin guessed. Unlike with Bork the Fork, he felt the energy in his chest flare to life right before the bees ran into the invisible wall. He gaped as the hornets kept coming, kept smashing against the barrier. He hadn't counted on the energy acting different. Of course, when he'd first noticed the energy, it had yanked him to safety, but knowing the energy was capable of doing different things, and seeing it happening were two different things. Honestly, Corbin wondered why he doubted its ability to improvise.

Though, it seemed the energy wasn't capable (or inclined, he wasn't sure) to help his friends.

Corbin turned to his right, and gaped.

Two, good thing Emmy chose then to acquire a new ability.

Emmy had her hands thrown in front her, a shield that was shaped like the ones they'd seen on their day trip to that Camelot re-enactment festival two years ago, in front of her. It was large, took up most of Emmy's body and was invisible except for the green glowing outline of the shield itself.

"_Emmy_," Corbin said, shocked.

"That's new," Sean said from behind Emmy, his face mirroring Corbin's disbelief.

"I'm afraid to lower my arms," Emmy mumbled, and Corbin noticed how her entire body shook, as if it was taking every ounce of her strength to keep the shield up.

_Huh_. Corbin frowned as he stepped away from the tree and its nest, his pace slow and measured. Maybe Emmy was right all those years ago. Maybe his magic was like hers, but different. He didn't struggle when he used his, and aside from feeling the initial rush of the energy coming to life in his chest, he felt nothing.

"I'm coming, hold on," Corbin said as he stood just in front of Emmy, his back brushing against her hands. He watched as Emmy's shield winked out, his own protection seeming to cancel her abilities out. "Run," he said, eyes watching the hornets try to bust through the invisible barrier.

Corbin didn't need to tell his friends twice, apparently. He could hear their fast footfalls before he'd finished speaking.

He watched the bees a moment more, hoping the wall in front of him also had a back.

_Magic can never be trusted, son. You must fight for our people. As Prince, it is your duty to stop magic before it can destroy the Kingdom—_

Corbin took a breath, and setting his trust free, ran.

The bees followed behind him, but he never felt any pain. He was protected, _again_.

Corbin laughed, his heart soaring, his confidence in whatever took care of him, whether it was magic or Batman, taking flight.

"I told you lot to believe me!" Corbin yelled to Emmy and Sean's retreating backs. "I'm unstoppable!"

_When Arthur said Merlin spoke treason about calling Arthur his King, he hadn't been kidding._

_By the time Arthur arranged (commanded, more like) for Merlin's release, the Coronation was two days away._

_Merlin spent most of those days eating, receiving odd, stand-offish looks from Gaius, taking warm baths, and balking at his new station, loudly._

_"I'm not revoking the title, Merlin," Arthur said, swatting at Merlin's hands on his ceremonial robes. "And _leave me alone_."_

_Merlin huffed, glared at Arthur as the soon-to-be-king made a dignified (probably to Arthur's mind, but Merlin thought he looked like an arse—royalty or not) retreat to the other side of the bed._

_Merlin felt ridiculous. While Arthur left him to rot in the dungeons for weeks, Arthur had his seamstresses working fast to fashion Merlin his own wardrobe of clothes—for the Court Sorcerer and Advisor to His Majesty._

_Merlin glared down at his dark blue velvet robe. Merlin imagined the motif was what Arthur thought magic looked like: bits of gold tassel embroidered in the high collar in winding script, a nightscape of the moon and stars embroidered in silver and gold on the back of the robe. It let anyone with eyes know who Merlin was—as if killing the King and being imprisoned wasn't good enough._

_Merlin fumed as his eyes fell to the bottom of his robe, disgusted. Arthur had the seamstresses sow in tiny bloody _bells_ into the sleeves and the bottom of it, so wherever he went, he jingled. When Merlin had thought the bells silent, he'd received a glare so hard from Arthur, he reversed it immediately, actually making the bells a bit louder out of guilt. Merlin protested the ensemble, but Arthur refused to listen._

_Arthur had done some protesting of his own that morning, when Merlin strode into his room (Arthur hadn't taken his father's rooms, not yet, and Merlin doubted he ever would) to fulfill his manservant duties for the coronation. Yes, he wasn't a manservant any longer, but couldn't there be room for a little sentimentality? Apparently not._

_Merlin watched Arthur run a hand over his robes. The soon-to-be-king looked resplendent in the red cape; the black breeches and boots and the white shirt underneath complimenting him nicely. Arthur's blonde hair shined in the light, that golden dust—the magic Merlin had given to Arthur when he'd pledged fealty—seemed to follow Arthur around, settling on the crown of his head whenever he stood still._

_"Here," Merlin said as he walked over to Arthur's armoire and retrieved the crown he would wear for the last time. He walked back to Arthur, his eyes observing what the magic did to Arthur's skin._

_"What?" Arthur asked, squinting a bit at him. "Is there something wrong?"_

_Merlin shook his head, smiling as he presented the Prince's crown to him. "Nothing, really. You're glowing."_

_Arthur blushed, and then scowled. "Such a girl, Merlin," he admonished, that fond tone back in his voice._

_Merlin ignored him; instead he raised a brow and watched the crown leave his hands, and land gently atop Arthur's head. "There," he said, smiling. "I think you're ready."_

_"Why do I get the impression that you weren't going to let anyone else do that?" Arthur asked, a smile blooming on his face, tone both goading and wry._

_Merlin shrugged, bit the inside of his cheek to hide his amusement."Because I wasn't."_

_Arthur scoffed. "Stop being so territorial. It doesn't suit you."_

_That was a lie, not that Arthur knew it. Merlin was territorial, deadly so. He'd never tell Arthur as much._

_"It can be a secret," Merlin suggested, going back to their last argument and trying one more time to get out of the horrible garb he'd been forced in. "I'd just be your mundane, loyal, _humble_ manservant, and when it's time for me to save your life again, _bam!_" Merlin snapped his fingers, sparks filling the air like crystals, fading from the air like mist. "I'm there with an element of surprise."_

_Arthur rolled his eyes, ignoring Merlin's theatrics, to his irritation. He didn't do cheap tricks for anybody. "After what you did, it could hardly be considered a surprise." He crossed his arms, giving Merlin a quelling glare._

_"And, from what I gather," Arthur continued arrogantly, "it's known to people like yourself that I'm _protected_, and have been for some time. What you did and what the members of court saw have reached the ends of the earth and back."_

_Merlin did his best not to fidget under Arthur's glare. He was successful, for the most part. "That was a special circumstance," he returned, pointing a finger at Arthur's smug face. "And I stand by my actions."_

_Arthur clenched his jaw (Merlin could see the tension from where he stood), pointed his own angry finger at Merlin. "If you _ever_ do that—"he wiggled his fingers and Merlin assumed it was supposed to define how he used his magic, or Arthur's fingers were trying to jump from his body. "—invisible wall…_thing_, I will have your head. I might need your assistance on very, very _rare_ occasions, but never your protection."_

_"Alright, alright. I understand," Merlin waved away Arthur's complaining; quietly pleased by the tiny, begrudging compliment. "It won't be a habit, Arthur. Luckily, Uther kept you fighting fit, so you do carry your own weight most days," he goaded, and smiled._

_To Merlin's surprise, Arthur didn't return the barb. The Prince's face fell, blue eyes losing a bit of their color._

_"What is it?" Merlin asked, and resisted the urge to put a comforting hand on Arthur's shoulder as he'd done infrequently over the last few years._

_They joked, they talked, he and Arthur. They pretended things were better than they were; as if Merlin hadn't purposely let Uther die, like they were still friends who could be honest with each other. Everything was far from alright, but they were trying. They'd try until it was right between them again. It was what he and Arthur did._

_"Did you hate my father?"_

_The question was asked softly, something Arthur had been doing more often since their talk in  
the dungeons, this vulnerability he'd started to show, as if Merlin's pledge to him allowed Merlin to see a more candid version._

_Merlin suppressed a sigh. The question was innocuous enough, but complicated. Not nearly as complicated as the truth, granted, but he could tell a version of it._

_Merlin tilted his head, capturing Arthur's blank face. Arthur was trying so hard not to care. "No, I don't think I'm capable of hating your father," he answered feeling a fond smile fighting its way onto his lips._

_Not that Uther Pendragon—the Uther Arthur knew—had any idea Merlin would have sacrificed (_did_ sacrifice) everything for him. The boy-king who dreamt of uniting the known world through magic, the boy-king who inspired Merlin to take drastic actions in his name; that Uther— the innocent, hopeful, loving, loyal boy he'd once known— was long erased; lost in the cosmos._

_Even as Uther cursed Merlin on his deathbed, demanded his death and pleaded with his son to kill his best friend—"I loved Uther," Merlin uttered quietly, honestly. "He did the best he knew. He coped with the Kingship he was given, and overall, he was a good King." And _oh_, that sounded biased even to his own ears, but coping with a situation spiraling out of control was something Merlin could relate._

_"Did his best? Coped? _Merlin_." Arthur sighed, rolled back on his heels. "I'm pleased to hear you're no longer spouting treason, but you can't expect me to believe you thought he was a good King to you, given what you are—and we are crossing into treason again."_

_"You'll be King by afternoon. I'm sure you can pardon us," Merlin snapped. "Besides, I didn't say I didn't like him! I just can't hate him. I think Camelot would be in trouble if Uther never had a son, never had you. I know I would be."_

_Arthur frowned at him, his eyes bright and curious as he searched Merlin's face. Two pink spots covered Arthur's cheeks even as his lips dropped and his shoulders hunched. He nodded, as if something had been confirmed on Merlin's face._

_Merlin didn't like that, not at all. "I didn't think you could, erm, talk about Uther so…impartially," he said, stumbling through a delicate subject, as was his specialty. Merlin felt bad about it, he did, but right now a distraction was good, no matter how tactless._

_Arthur lifted his head, blinked at Merlin. "Father was a good King," he said at length, his words coming slow, speculative. "I know the people expect the same from me. But I hope to exceed their expectations. Magical and mundane alike."_

_Merlin grinned, patted Arthur on the back. "And I'll be here, keeping you on the straight and narrow."_

_"That's another thing," Arthur said, sounding furtive. "I know father banning magic couldn't have made you…comfortable."_

_Merlin snorted. Countless, _countless_ lives were lost, and Arthur explained it away as uncomfortable? Every death was like a stab to him. Every time the magic returned, he felt every death, whether big or small, like new. If he didn't believe Arthur would make up for the losses and more, he would've left long ago. Hermitage had always appealed to him. "That's one way to put it," he said snidely, rolling his eyes at Arthur. _Arse_._

_"Listen, will you?" Arthur said, exasperated, his hands outstretched between them, placating. "As your King, if I can't make your life—You pledged your life to me," Arthur hissed, nearly in Merlin's face. "Let me do my duty. Let me make your sacrifice worth it. I want…I want as your King—for you to be _happy_, Merlin. And if I can't give you that, I want you to be comfortable."_

_Was that why Arthur had him in such ridiculous robes? Merlin watched Arthur, the desire to joke, deflect, weighing heavy on him._

_Yet, Arthur's words floated in the air around them like Destiny, words written in languages older than time itself, some yet unwritten, and they tasted like Magic on the back of his tongue._

_Merlin cleared his throat, pushed his shoulders back. Was this his first duty as Court Sorcerer and Advisor to His Majesty? Maybe so. "The magical community thanks you—"_

_"This isn't for the bloody _community_, idiot." Arthur grabbed Merlin's shoulders and shook him a bit. "That's for later. This is for you."_

_Merlin nodded, his mind clearing of confusion. This moment wasn't the kingdom's destiny, but his and Arthurs. "Right." Sometimes, even he got things a bit jumbled._

_Arthur rolled his eyes, hard. "Right," he parroted, his expression softening and going, well, fond. "You're horrible at distraction, you know."_

_Merlin tensed. "Am I?" he managed, throat parched._

_Arthur stepped closer, a spirit of sadness coming over him like a cloud. "Promise me something," he said, hoarse, troubled._

_Merlin didn't have to think about it. "Anything," he whispered, watching Arthur's earnest face and the lines of his shoulders, returning to his face._

_"You'll do something for yourself."_

_Something for himself? Merlin blinked. "We'll be busy with the Kingdom—"_

_"The Kingdom is my responsibility," Arthur cut in, irritation coating his tone a little. They'd had this argument countless times over the years, even before Arthur knew of Merlin's magic. All the magic did was add another layer to the argument, something that surprisingly, hadn't changed much._

_Merlin rolled his eyes. "Yeah, of course, but I'll be here to help…Unless you don't want me to?" He hadn't thought about that. Everything had always been life or death between them, and he hadn't considered the idea that Arthur just didn't want him round. Not that he would honor Arthur's wish, but it was an unexpected thought._

_"It's not a question of want." Arthur clenched his jaw, the beginnings of a glare starting. "Promise me. Promise me you'll have your own life."_

_Merlin pursed his lips, irked. "You sound like you don't think you'll have the same things." Of course Arthur didn't. Merlin hated himself for thinking it, but Arthur wasn't exactly wrong._

_Arthur rubbed his face with shaking hands. "I've responsibilities," he said behind his hands._

_"Yes," Merlin drawled. "As do I."_

_"_Merlin_," Arthur dropped his hands, face pained. "I don't want you to sacrifice anything for me."_

_It was already too late for that. "Well, it wouldn't exactly be a sacrifice," he said, blithe._

_"I know you have secrets." Arthur stepped closer, placed his right hand on the juncture of Merlin's neck and shoulder. "But there are some things you can't hide from me. And…_and_, if I were anyone else, I wouldn't want you to hide them."_

_Merlin shut his eyes tight, closing himself off from this moment, fighting the urge to strike it from the world's timeline._

_When Merlin and his siblings discussed Uther Pendragon and his important role to the world, he had been determined to see Uther's destiny through. Then he met Uther, and all that changed._

_Now, Arthur, Uther's son, stood before him. A person Merlin never considered in the larger scheme of things, and what he felt—the loyalty—for Uther didn't even touch what he felt for Arthur. He held no allegiance to Uther any longer. All the duty he had for Uther was now Arthur's._

_And now, on Arthur's coronation day, Merlin could admit to himself, finally, that loyalty had absolutely nothing to do with it._

_"Look at me," Arthur asked, begged, voice hitched low._

_Merlin complied, like answering a siren call. "Arthur—"_

_"You know I'll marry soon," Arthur said, the words sounding forced._

_Merlin smiled, placating. "Oh, right, I know. I wasn't expecting a, erm, commitment." He hadn't expected Arthur to love him, too._

_Fate was a cruel bastard, of that Merlin was sure. He would make Fate pay for breaking his trust._

_Arthur sighed, cleared his throat, his hand tightening on Merlin's skin. "I don't—"_

_"I know—"_

_"We can't—I can't _choose_ you. The Kingdom has to come first; will always come first—"_

_"Arthur," Merlin smiled, bitter but determined. He knew it would be this way, if it went this way—the way he both hoped and dreaded: Arthur's reciprocation. "_I know_."_

_Arthur stepped closer, captured Merlin's wrist with his left hand, his right slipping up Merlin's neck, fingers like a ghost, guiding their foreheads together. Arthur's lips dipped down, brushing against his jaw; Merlin shivered, pushed his jaw against Arthur's lips._

_Arthur tugged at Merlin's jaw with his teeth a little, the movement feeling like angry bees against his skin. "I want you to be happy. Promise me you'll try," he said, mouth sweet against Merlin's skin._

_"I promise," Merlin whispered, his heart beating so hard he thought it would finally break._

_No, his heart would never break, never. Merlin would hold it together, redirect his feelings, his breaking heart, to Arthur's beck and call, to Arthur's Kingdom, to the betterment of Albion until Arthur's last breath. So no, Merlin wouldn't let his heart break completely; he'd give his heart to Arthur through his deeds, the only way he could._

_Arthur sighed, his breath mingling with Merlin. Their lips never touched. "Okay."_

_Arthur moved back, his head ducked. "Okay."_

_And that was the end of that._

_Merlin watched Arthur make a hasty retreat, a page conveniently calling to collect him for the coronation._

_Duty called._

_Merlin sighed, bemused and melancholy. Arthur could be such an _idiot_. Didn't he know he was the source of Merlin's happiness? He would be happy (stressed, but happy) as long as Arthur drew breath._

_That was something Merlin couldn't, and wouldn't, change._


	3. Part 3

5.

Merlin was pissed, and not in the good way.

"There has to be an explanation for this," Merlin said to Archimedes as he stared at himself in the bathroom mirror, blinking away the rest of the steam upon it. "This has to be a complete setup, and if we don't figure out who's messing in Destiny's territory, we'll be in trouble."

"It doesn't have to be anything, Magic Man," Archie said as he pecked at his feathers, resting in the middle of Merlin's California king bed. "Just coincidence." He looked at Merlin through the door slowly, lazily. "But that's certainly not the case."

Merlin sighed. "I know, I know," he said, hair drying completely before his breath left his body. "It doesn't make any sense. My time here is shortening, but it's not _that_ short."

Archie gave him a level, unimpressed look as Merlin exited the bathroom, encased in pants and a white undershirt. "You're in denial, Merlin. This situation makes perfect sense."

Merlin stilled by the bed, returning Archie's regard. "You think Nimueh and Mordred are at work?" he closed his eyes, rubbed his nose with the palm of his left hand, thinking; _thinking_. "If that's true, then—"

"I'm not the one convinced history will repeat itself," Archie exclaimed as he took flight from the bed and landed on Merlin's messy dresser. "For all we know, they could be working independently from her, but that's not likely. She's been awake for quite a few years."

"But she can't," Merlin said, flabbergasted, sitting down on the bed in a slump, stared at the thick white carpet under his feet. "She doesn't have the excuses she did last time. If she's working with Nimueh and Mordred, it could only mean—"

"Fate's gotten to her," Archie finished, concern threading his voice.

"Then…" Merlin looked over at Archie, at a loss, his brain spinning, _spinning_. "Then that means we're truly on our own."

He'd known about Nimueh and Mordred's rebirths for a little under seventeen years (twenty-five, in Nimueh's case), just as he'd known about Gaius'. Merlin couldn't fool himself into thinking Nimueh and Mordred would be innocent of wrongdoing this time round (history repeated itself, whether he wanted it to or not), but he thought he had more time.

And as for whom they'd aligned themselves with again—

"You've been lying to yourself for years," Archie chastised gently. "You've been preparing yourself to strike, telling yourself it's to fight for humanity, for Arthur, but that's a lie. You've been preparing to take on Fate, and if you have to, Morgana."

"Don't call her that," Merlin muttered distractedly. He clenched his fists, was dressed in grey trousers and a blue jumper a moment later. "I don't want to kill her."

"I never said you did—aloud," Archie intoned, rolling his head to Merlin as the warlock crossed his bedroom. "But you can't force her to do anything she doesn't wish, not without repercussions for you. And if she's…on the wrong side, you're hand will be forced and there won't be any consequences."

Merlin laughed. "Thanks, I'm reassured that you've thought about this," he said over his shoulder, walking through the floor to the kitchen, Archie swan diving through the floor a moment after.

His house was nice, but simple. Five sizable bedrooms, one a master suite, three full bathrooms, a restaurant style kitchen, the living room (on the first floor with the kitchen and two of the smaller bedrooms) could easily fit fifteen or so people, and—

_Right_. Merlin looked around his kitchen, visualized the rest of the estate. The house wasn't largish, it was bloody _enormous_; and it wasn't a house, but a three storey mansion.

Merlin had lived in a lot of small places since the first two times round, and this was going to be his last few years. So why not live in the lap of luxury for a bit?

Merlin turned on the right hob on the first cooker as soon as his feet hit the kitchen floor. There was already a kettle there and, well, sometimes making tea the mundane way tasted better than by magic.

"Go and talk to her."

Merlin looked at the top of the fridge where Archie perched. "Talk," Merlin repeated, eyed Archie for possession. "And why would I talk to her? Hm? If she's decided to go against me again, what would be the point?"

"You know, there was a time when talking would have been your first course of action," Archie drawled. "But I'm starting to see your reasoning."

"Do you want to kill her?" Merlin asked, a little surprised. Archie didn't have a problem with him taking a life (if Archie had a problem with it, he wouldn't still be there). He did as much when he'd acquired Archie during the plague years, but Archie didn't make a habit of looking for a reason.

"Don't _you_?" Archie replied, his gold eyes swirling. "That hasn't been a problem before. From what I understand, you've been underplaying yourself for quite some time. Don't you think it's time you finished this? Properly?"

"I—"

"Yes, yes, I _know_. It's not that simple," Archie cut in, sounding tired. "Then prove me wrong. Go see her; take her by surprise and regain control of the situation. Merlin, this is still _your_ time. She's encroaching on _you_."

Merlin blinked at the owl. Archie had a point; a very good one, though Merlin doubted he could ever surprise her. "It'll let me know once and for all where her loyalties stand and how I have to act."

"_And_ give you a chance to clear the air," Archie chimed in.

Merlin snorted. Clear the air with her? He sincerely doubted it was possible. For that, she would have to apologize for her role in Arthur's death. "Maybe I should visit Nimueh and Mordred, too. Maybe get rid of them before they pose a problem?"

Archie whipped his head back and forth. "There shouldn't be a need for it. If she's working with those two buffoons, I don't see her letting them do much: Control is the name of the game, this time around."

"Control has always been the name of the game," Merlin corrected, cutting off the kettle as it whistled. "I'll have to come back for tea later. I've some errands to run." He glanced at Archie as the bird cleaned his feathers. "I might see her today. Did you want to come?"

Archie snorted, looked at Merlin and rolled his eyes. "I'll pass, thanks. I like my feathers unsigned, if you don't mind."

Merlin mustered up a smile. "It won't be as bad as all that." It could be worse.

Archie grunted, flapped his wings. "Are we back to denial again?"

Merlin laughed, shrugged. "There's nothing wrong with a bit of wishful thinking."

School life for Corbin had simplified, but that could not be said for Emmy. Well, it wasn't school that was to blame. Just the acquaintances she met while there.

There was a new student at school. He appeared mid-year, which it could have been worse, what with GCSEs and all.

The new boy was an eleventh year, had a smoking habit and was heavily into the emo scene. The academy didn't get many mid-year admissions, and none at the new boy's level, but the new kid didn't seem to care about that. He seemed to be on a mission from the moment he set foot on the campus, and it wasn't academic.

They were sitting at one of the tables in the promenade for lunch, Corbin, Emmy and Sean, when the energy in Corbin's chest flared to life, burning and rattling violently. Corbin nearly choked on the crisp he'd just swallowed. He gagged, hunched over and before he could blink, both Emmy and Sean were patting his back.

"Are you alright?" Emmy asked, handed Corbin his bottle of water, face the picture of concern as she picked up her own fork to return to her salad.

Corbin nodded absently, casting his eyes about the promenade, trying to find the cause of his discomfort (and being a little angry that Emmy and Sean—who'd' patted him once before snatching a few crisps from Corbin's plate before he'd recovered—weren't a little more concerned) . The energy didn't normally warn Corbin so aggressively, or much at all. Corbin liked to think it let him live his life, and if he got into a little trouble, it was there to bail him out. Which was the case, most of the time. It had a funny definition of help, actually. It was there when he'd nearly cracked his head open seven years ago, and protected him from bullies, but if he was disciplined by his mum (she loved to swat him with a spoon when he tasted dinner before it was ready—why did she have to be so _cruel_?), it stayed out of his way, and up until last year when his father finally…_left_, he seemed to heal faster, and the pain wasn't as bad, but didn't stop the beatings. So yeah, funny way of helping.

"Name's Timothy," the raven haired new student said, appearing out of nowhere, munching loudly on an apple, pale and gaunt cheeks bulging. "But anyone important calls me Mordred. That's who I was, once upon a time."

"_The_ Mordred?" Emmy stuttered, incredulous, the lettuce on her fork going limp.

Tim—no, _Mordred_ grinned. "Yep. Pleased to meet you, Emmeria Ortiz."

Emmy tittered, a habit she'd picked up on her twelfth birthday, to Corbin and Sean's chagrin. Alright, to Corbin's chagrin; Sean didn't seem to mind, the tosser. "Anyone important calls me Emmy."

Mordred inclined his head regally, reached out and took Emmy's hand. "I'm honored, Emmy." He kissed her hand, a brush of lips against skin.

Of course, Emmy was smitten.

Corbin didn't like that, not one bit. Neither had Sean, but Corbin figured it was for different reasons.

"How do you know her?" Corbin and Sean said simultaneously, Corbin didn't bother to look at Sean. When it came to Emmy and protecting her, the time for fun was over.

Mordred smirked at them, a bemused sort of look crossing his face, like Corbin and Sean were some kind of dog and pony show: entertaining, but ultimately useless. "I saw here in a vision, several weeks ago," Mordred declared, blasé. "I came here just to meet you," he looked at Emmy, earnest.

Emmy ate it up, her eyes big as saucers. "You have visions too? I thought I was the only one."

Corbin's chest throbbed, the early defense system (for lack of a better word) coiling in his ribcage, preparing to strike. The power heated his skin, and words whispered in the air in a strange tongue. Corbin glanced at Sean, Emmy and the Mordred bloke, noting that no one else seemed to have noticed the quiet words. Corbin closed his eyes, listening. The words—the voice—was familiar, but he couldn't place it. Maybe he was finally going mad; but Corbin didn't think it was time for that, not just yet. Corbin opened his eyes, stared at Mordred and Emmy's clasped hands.

The energy vibrated like a plucked string, beating against Corbin's chest. It burned bright, and—

"Uh, yes," Mordred blinked, dropping Emmy's hand like a dead weight.

The power in Corbin's chest calmed to a slow burn.

_Huh_. Corbin shared a look with Sean. He glanced at his chest, raised a brow.

"What do you want with Emmy?" Sean asked, not bothering to be cordial. Corbin hid his smirk; he could always count on his best friend to follow directions when it counted.

"There's something coming," Mordred said without preamble, his blasé tone dropping just as fast as he'd dropped Emmy's hand. "An event. We think Emmy can help us. In fact, we know it."

"Know it?" Emmy said, nose scrunched up, tone threaded with both flattered delight and curiosity.

Mordred shrugged, eyes skating over Emmy's face. "It's Destiny."

"What sort of event?" Corbin asked, folded his arms over his chest, felt the heat and power through his jumper.

Mordred looked at Corbin and Sean in turn, his bright blue eyes taking on an intense edge. "What are you to her?" he asked, blunt.

"Her protectors," Corbin and Sean said together, their tones brooking no arguments. "And if you're going to be doing anything with Emmy," Corbin continued.

"It will be with us, too." Sean finished, clipped.

"Kinky," Mordred wagged his eyebrows, apparently unconcerned with their half veiled threat."I'm liking you two more and more."

Mordred stood, a sheaf of paper floated onto their table out of nowhere. "Tonight, meet me there," Mordred glanced at Corbin and Sean. "All of you. You'll get more information when you arrive."

Sean snatched the paper out of the air. "The docks?" he said, after a survey of the paper, incredulous.

"We need room to operate," Mordred said, inclining his head and walked away without another word.

"I take it your sparkly senses were tingling," Sean said as soon as Mordred was a good distance away.

Sean insisted on calling Corbin's early defense system that, when no other name was forthcoming except, well, _early defense system_, but Sean ignored the (constant) suggestion, deeming it unworthy a name for what it did—the metaphorical vagina jokes it gave Sean. It didn't tingle but burned, but that lead to all sorts of STD jokes—and Corbin would rather be female than diseased.

"Thought it was going to attack him when he held your hand," Corbin commented to Emmy and Sean both, ignoring Sean's snickering like the gentleman he was. "I don't trust him."

"You've been wrong before," Emmy pointed out, lips curled. "This could be another one of those times."

"It was once," Corbin countered, irritated. "How was I supposed to know Jessica was harmless at the time?"

Nicholas, Emmy's older brother, had met Jessica Talbott on a tour of Greece with his girlfriend Daniella during their gap year. Nick invited Jessica back to his home and upon meeting Jessica, Corbin's early defense system burned so bright and hot, he'd passed out.

But, for whatever reason, upon waking and near passing out all over again, Jessica touched his chest, and the burning eased. Even with their combined efforts at interrogation, Jessica swore she didn't know how she did it; _if_ she did it, but Corbin hadn't been convinced.

"One time," Corbin reiterated, shaking a finger at Emmy. "Doesn't mean it's wrong now."

"Maybe," Emmy said, looked in the direction Mordred had gone, looking wistful.

Corbin sighed.

oOo

"This is mad," Sean despaired for the umpteenth time as the car came to a halt at the shipping yard.

From lunch time, straight through classes, with texting during trips to the toilet and between lectures, Corbin and Sean tried to convince Emmy it was a bad idea to go see the Mordred bloke wanted to no avail.

Corbin wasn't surprised. Once Emmy got it into her head to do something, come hell or high water, she was going to do it.

Emmy was the first out of the black cab, her grey eyes flitted about with expectation and delight, even at ten pm. "I'm so excited," she said. "Maybe here we'll get answers." She glanced at Corbin, so much hope in her face. "Answers for all of us."

The ship yard looked just as ominous as the ones Corbin saw on the tele, times ten. Hell, the brick building—their destination, by the looks of it—looked like a set piece of all the gangster films he'd seen, or of the buildings he'd seen in most of Noelle Clark's gritty films—the ones asking for a shoot out or a regrouping after a bank heist.

To make matters worse, there were three (count them: one-two-_three_) black cats that scurried past them as they made their way to the entrance of the building. Two of whom went under a ladder balanced against a hollowed out supply ship, the other getting into an epic battle of wills with an _open_ umbrella just _sitting_ inside one of the dilapidated outbuildings they'd passed to the warehouse.

Corbin shared a glance with Sean.

They were doomed.

"Right," Corbin said as they made it (safely—surprisingly) to the door. There was a buzzer beside the burned, rusted, metal door.

With shaking fingers, Emmy pressed the buzzer. The buzzer didn't buzz; instead it gonged the chorus of Canada's national anthem.

"See?" Emmy tittered nervously. "What more proof do you need that we're safe."

The door opened on its own power with a clichéd creak of rusty hinges.

Corbin pinched the bridge of his nose. Nope, that wasn't ominous. Not at all.

As soon as they stepped foot inside the warehouse, Corbin's chest came on like a house on fire.

The inside of the warehouse, unlike the outside, was massive, doing a pretty impressive impersonation of what Corbin thought the TARDIS would look like, if all its rooms were placed side-by-side. There were stairs that lead up to a backroom and balcony on the right side of the building a few (dozen? The place was big enough to fit of the yard's largest ships inside it, easy) meters from where he, Sean and Emmy stood. The place smelled of rosemary and other such herbs, would've been black as pitch if not for all the candles scattered on almost all available surfaces, even the stairs, save for a circle in the center of the large space, quite a few meters wide, lit with a spotlight of its own unknown power source, given there was no spotlight present when Corbin lifted his head and looked at the ceiling, expecting to see it. It wasn't there, of course.

Yes, that was normal.

"Welcome."

Beside him, Emmy and Sean jumped, obviously surprised by Mordred's abrupt appearance in the circle they were standing just outside of. Corbin hadn't been surprised, his trusty defense system having slowed down time so he could see Mordred slowly materialize.

Why Corbin's defense system hadn't gone berserk yet, given this entire situation was an obvious setup, was beyond him.

Corbin slipped his hand into Emmy's, lending her strength. They'd tried transferring power before, he and Emmy; it didn't work, but Corbin thought it was the thought that counted.

_Don't fail me tonight._ Corbin tightened his hold on Emmy's hand when, in a puff of smoke, another figure appeared. _Not when I'll need you the most_.

"I didn't think you'd grace us with your presence," the voice—female—said before all the smoke cleared.

Once the smoke cleared, Corbin wished it would come back.

Physically, the woman was around an eight-point-two out of ten for attractiveness, Corbin estimated. Peaches and cream skin, shiny shoulder length brown hair (he'd get back to that in a moment), curves in all the right places. Given a chance (and enough lager) Corbin would hit it. But she lost all points for her leather ("leather" Corbin felt obligated to say, actually) kink—she looked dipped in it, and not in the good way—her hair done up in partial braids like a nineties American grunge video (or one of those films Mel Gibson had been famous for in the eighties, where they rode round the desert looking for water and driving petrol trucks like faithful steeds). And by size if her pupils—miniscule, compared to the navy blue of her eyes—a staggering heroin habit.

"_Nice_," Corbin heard Sean say beside Emmy.

Corbin sighed.

"I thought it would take more time to convince you to come," the woman said, looking at Emmy. He and Sean might as well not been there for all the attention she gave them. Luckily for Emmy, they were. "But Mordred assured me you'd come." The woman smiled. "I am Nimueh."

"You're Nimueh," Emmy trilled next to Corbin, oblivious to the danger around them. How that was possible—

"Like the Lady of the Lake," Emmy cut off Corbin's thoughts, grinning at Nimueh. "Like Merlin's lost love?"

_Oh_. Corbin rolled his eyes. _Tragic romance: this is how she's oblivious_. It was left up to him to save them all.

Nimueh looked a little green under the magical (how did they get themselves into these sorts of things? Really?) spotlight. "Yes, something like that."

"Tell her why she's here," Mordred chimed in next to Nimueh, eyeing Emmy in a way that rose Corbin's hackles. His chest thrummed with energy, the fire from earlier curling inside him and resting just above Corbin's heart, building slowly, taking shape. To what, he had no idea.

Corbin schooled his face to keep what was happening inside him under wraps for now, wary. Alright, not so much wary, as it would be horrendously stupid to give away perhaps the only chance they'd have of getting out of there unharmed.

Nimueh (and Mordred, like a dog) stepped closer to them, stopping just shy of the candles, her face lit with grim determination. "In a few years time, there will be a battle," Nimueh began, a dark anticipation shining through her eyes. "A great wizard has been planning to destroy the world as we know it." Nimueh took a breath, her eyes downcast, and shoulders heavy and sagging. "And if we don't use your powers, Emmeria Ortiz, to stop it, it's the end of all things."

It was theatrical and vague on details, just enough to rope someone like Emmy in. How anyone could fall for Nimueh's poor attempts at entrapment were beyond Corbin. Mordred had been two times more convincing. Nimueh should have let him do all the talking.

"Right," Corbin said. This was all grievously suspicious and pure rubbish. Though, the words were coldly familiar—the intent of the words—urgent, commanding, like he should try to pay attention to Nimueh's words, even though the words themselves were off. But, nonetheless—

"Where's the proof?"

"_Corbin_," Emmy hissed, like she was embarrassed by _him_. Frankly, if anyone should be embarrassed, it was Emmy. Oh, and Nimueh and Mordred for thinking he and his friends were dumb enough to believe their tripe. And Sean—for being so easily distracted by faux leather.

"Who are you?" Nimueh asked, pure arrogance singing through her question. "We offer good will to Emmeria and her friends, but understand this: if this wasn't an offering of good will, you and your friend would have been locked out of here."

Inexplicably, Corbin sincerely doubted that. "We're Emmy's family, and that's all you need to know."

Nimueh gave him a once over, glaring the entire time. "Mordred, attend to Emmeria's family, please."

Mordred bellowed foreign words fast, like he thought something was actually—

A strong wind overtook Corbin, his hand ripped from Emmy's as she screamed and Sean hollered. Once the wind was gone, Corbin shook his head, trying to regain his equilibrium.

Emmy was frozen in place right where they'd been only moments before, her hands tied behind her back, her mouth sealed shut with some sort of magic—green in color, like vomit. He and Sean, on the other hand, we now pressed back to back by some invisible force several feet away from her. Rope flew down from the ceiling, tying he and Sean together, tight, it all happening in a smattering of breaths.

Corbin heard more chanting, this time from Nimueh, and what he saw wasn't overly reassuring.

A muffled scream came and Corbin saw Emmy as she was lifted off the ground by some invisible power, and floated into the candle strewn circle. An invisible dais rose from the ground like water or sand, solidifying into sarcophagus-shaped tableau right at Nimueh's waist. Emmy landed atop it none-too-gently, the ropes around her wrists loosening themselves and tying her to the table, once Nimueh muttered dark words under her breath, forcing Emmy's arms above her head on the table.

Mordred, appearing next to them like the cheap parlor magician he was, smirked at Corbin, seemingly content they'd do no harm. "If you'll excuse me, we've work to do. Our Emmeria's quite unique."

"No offense, Emmy," Sean shouted, "but your predicting powers are utter _shite_!"

Mordred stopped in his tracks (Nimueh didn't, she collected what looked like a bowl and a few bottles of greenish-black liquid, Corbin noticed), turned back to Corbin and Sean, eyebrow quirked. "Why would we need her Seeing ability? We need her telekinesis."

"How did you know about that?" Sean asked as Corbin said, "Do you think we'd let you tie us up if Emmy had the ability?"

Corbin did his best to glare at Sean. Honestly, he was surrounded by idiots.

Mordred shook his head, _tsking_. "I Saw her. She has the ability, whether she's mastered it or not, it doesn't matter. We'll do it for her."

"I told you we should have trussed her, tossed her in the closet and thrown away the key," Corbin said to Sean, struggling ineffectually against the ropes.

"Bully for you," Sean snarled back, squirming just as much as Corbin. "But excuse me if I thought it was a bad idea. It's Emmy we're talking about. I've grown attached." Sean replied, like it was a valid reason.

Before Corbin could spontaneously gain telekinesis powers and club Sean to death, Nimueh started speaking again.

The words sounded a bit like welsh, with a short detour to Germany and maybe Spain. She hissed them over the bowl she'd gathered earlier, a gaseous blue smoke bubbling over the brim, crawling over a struggle Emmy and to the ground, invisible legs seeming to help it spread the length and width of the circle.

Nimueh's voice grew louder, began to echo around the empty space. Whatever she was saying, it didn't sound overly friendly.

"Wait, is she going to take Emmy's powers?" Sean asked, incredulous. "That's horrible! Someone should do something!"

Corbin sighed.

There were a few things wrong with the situation, if Corbin had his say (and he did). One: The entire situation seemed amateur and cliché. Nimueh and Mordred should be ashamed of themselves. Two: Corbin didn't think they'd have much longer before Emmy, let alone him and Sean, were dead. Three: Sean and Emmy deserved each other on shear short-sightedness and idiocy alone. Four: Why the hell hadn't his early defense system been more defense-like of their apparent downfall earlier? Didn't this count as a _dangerous situation_? And five: For the love of God, why wasn't he scared?

Corbin didn't feel brave, not exactly. He felt unimpressed, like the show of magic, danger and theatrics was beneath him and really, how had Nimueh and Mordred lived this long?  
Corbin liked to think his lack of fear of his impending demise was because of a hero complex a meter wide, but it didn't feel as such. At the moment, he felt reckless, unwisely advised, and deep down, protected.

A dull gleam caught Corbin's eye. Nimueh (and Mordred beside her, chanting whatever incantation she was) held a dagger coated in the greenish-black liquid from earlier. She held it above her head, staring down at Emmy, who'd as some point lost consciousness.

Nimueh belted at the top of her lungs, what sounded (and felt, to Corbin's mundane ears) like the crescendo of the spell and brought the dagger down—

And was smacked clear across the warehouse, Mordred joining her not a moment later.  
Corbin gasped and Sean screamed as some invisible—_thing_—scraped Nimueh and Mordred off the wall it'd flung them at, and repeated the process over again.

_Oh. That would be me_. Corbin looked down at his chest, which glowed brighter than a night light (he could see it through his jumper), his clothes smelling like they were on fire, but somehow not bursting into flames.

The ropes around he and Sean sizzled and before Corbin knew it, they were free. He didn't waste any time. He was to his feet and by the dais before he'd thought about it, quietly going mad: The energy tied to his chest acted independently of him—he could see it. A large, gold, arm-like sentient _thing_ bursting from his chest like a reject of _Aliens_.

"Fuck my life," Corbin muttered, the ropes tying Emmy to the dais falling away with just a touch of his fingers.

"Mate," Sean said, voice filled with awe as he stood on the other side of the dais by Emmy's head. "You've got a Magical Hand of Doom _in your chest_."

Corbin followed Sean's gaze and sure enough, he did.

If Corbin squinted, and turned his head just so, he could see a bit of a golden outline of the energy. It seemed (and felt, once he thought about it) like the ball of energy had mutated into an arm. And the way it smacked and flung Nimueh and Mordred about, it certainly seemed to prove Sean's claims.

Had the power been laying in wait to attack? Corbin knew it was defensive, but offensive?

The Bee Incident came to mind and Corbin snorted, delighted. _Brilliant_.

After checking Emmy's pulse and making sure she was sleeping and not, say, possessed by dark magic, Corbin turned his attention back to the Magical Hand of Doom (Christ, the name had already stuck).

Both Nimueh and Mordred were prone on the floor, just outside the circle. Bloody and broken, both their breaths sounded more like wheezing, though Corbin wasn't altogether sure Mordred was breathing steadily. Corbin didn't check.

"Who are you?"

It was Nimueh. She didn't lift her head, the invisible Hand still doing its best to flatten her. "Why are you protected?" she said, her wheezing weakening.

Those were questions Corbin asked himself nightly.

He watched as the energy continued to hit Nimueh and Mordred, not killing them, oddly, but seeming to beat them out of existence.

Corbin could see both their bodies losing their corporeal forms, fading, getting lighter. Nimueh's eyes never left Corbin. She watched him with dead eyes, waiting for a response.

"I don't owe you an answer," Corbin said, lifting his chin.

As soon as their bodies faded to nothing, the energy having sent Nimueh and Mordred to wherever (Corbin couldn't begin to guess), he turned his attention to Emmy and Sean.

They were looking at him.

"Why are our lives like this?" Sean bemoaned into the awkward silence that ensued.

"Because we're magical?" Corbin suggested, reaching for his mobile.

Just as usual, the energy at the center of his chest faded away, quietly, steadily. Corbin expelled a breath, relieved for things to be back to normal—

Corbin bit his tongue, cutting off the girlish shriek. What he _fucking fuck_ just happened?

Oh, as soon as the threat was gone, the fear set in. All the bravado and lack of abject fear disappeared with a blink, and like magic, good old brave Corbin Smith returned like he'd never left.

Corbin couldn't be happier.

"Calling Nick, Emmy, to get us the _hell_ out of here," Corbin muttered. Not that Emmy or Sean heard.

"She tried to take _my powers_!" Emmy shrieked from her perch on the dais. She was sitting up at least, her feet dangling over the side as she waved her hands about her, glaring at Sean.

"Well, maybe you shouldn't have believed them!" Sean bellowed back, pacing in from of her, flailing his arms left and right, face red with anger. "Just because a watery tart says it's the end of all things, doesn't mean it is." Sean stepped closer, glared at Emmy. "And just because an emo kid crooks his death-like fingers at you, doesn't mean you should discount me."

"What?" Emmy said, face twisted in confusion.

Corbin rolled his eyes. "You _sod_," he snarled as the phone rang on Nick's end. "Kiss her."

Sean caught the clue just as Nick picked up.

Corbin walked to the warehouse door, dodging the knocked over candles, the gunk that was Nimueh's spell, smiling despite himself.

Corbin looked over his shoulder, grimaced.

Sean and Emmy were snogging like their lives depended on it.

They continued, even after Corbin explained the situation to Nick (leaving out massive bits, of course) and said his goodbye.

It was about time.

Besides, Sean and Emmy would suss out it was time to leave—eventually. And Corbin didn't have an urge to talk about all that happened.

Corbin leaned against the ancient door frame, rubbing his chest absently. He looked out and to the midnight sky littered with stars this far away from London proper, the moon large and soothing, the crisp air around him carrying his plumes of breath into the atmosphere.

There was plenty to think about. Tonight was a night of questions and revelations, and very few answers. Corbin seriously underestimated what the thing in his chest could do. Or, _magic_ in his chest—which was starting to become the appropriate terminology, whether Corbin liked it or not.

Not only that, it was sentient when pushed and didn't seem to have a problem killing something (or close to killing) if the threat was big enough. Corbin guessed, that his father for all his abuse, hadn't been a threat. At least not the kind the energy inside him thought was relevant enough. So, there was an answer he'd longed for. Unsatisfying, but an answer.

A revelation: Combined with its ability to change form and act independently of Corbin, as well as doing other things, like slow time temporarily, act in a defensive manner, able to understand Corbin's intent (like when he wanted the ropes binding Emmy gone, the ropes fell away with a brush of his hands), it also had the ability to change Corbin's feelings in a dangerous situation—to keep him just calm and disinterested enough he could think clearly enough to be the hero he'd always wanted.

What did all this mean? Corbin searched the sky for answers, finding none amongst the stars. He bit his lip, a thought—the thought he'd had most of his life—making itself heard from the recesses of his mind.

Whatever—_whomever_—put this thing in his chest was powerful. But what was the purpose?

_Magic must be dealt with to the utmost care, son. You must make an example of the users, giving them no quarter. Let the pyre lit around them be testament to the ban on magic, and our resolve to uphold our rule—_

And why him?

6.

_"Do you think Lancelot will return?" Arthur asked, his face shuttered as he pushed his food around on his plate._

_It was one of Arthur's enforced rest days—or rather, the third day of the week where Arthur was devoted (forced, more like) to do court duties, all the things he hated about his Kingship. But Merlin secretly thought Arthur loved the paperwork; in them, his friend did some of his more lasting, profound changes, the sort Merlin thought attested to the real heart of who Arthur was._

_The King was having lunch in his room and Merlin joined him, as was their habit. Most days, he watched Arthur eat, as Merlin's appetite hadn't really made itself known once he realized he didn't have to eat. Either way, he enjoyed what Arthur enjoyed, and today it was a simple meal of a meat pie and an assortment of fruit._

_"It's been five years since he left us on the outskirts of Mercia," Merlin said as he leaned back in his chair, feeling a smile blooming on his face. He stretched his arms above him, releasing the chuckle in his chest. "Lancelot is a very honorable man, your Highness. I think he made his thoughts clear on your intentions toward Gwen." Merlin always thought Lancelot leaving Gwen behind without a word of goodbye was as clear a thought as anyone could get. But it was never going to be that simple. "Are you thinking of _finally_ making your move?"_

_It wasn't a secret that the King of Albion was dragging his feet about finding a Queen. Merlin hadn't been surprised that, in the two years since Arthur became King, he didn't have a spouse. On his best days, Arthur was picky, and as the task of finding a Queen for the land of Albion would be one of the most important things Arthur did—that wasn't always the case for Kingship in general, but in Arthur's case, it played a large role in his future—he was happy Arthur was taking his time._

_The last thing Arthur needed to do was pick a Queen who would destroy all of Merlin's hard work._

_Arthur nodded, squinting at Merlin. "I—yes, I think I am ready to make my move."_

_Arthur pushed back his chair and stood, amusement playing across his face as he looked down at Merlin. "Can you conjure me a bouquet?" Arthur asked, pacing back and forth around the table. "Only the rarest flowers you can think of—but not _too_ rare. I don't want you to poison her."_

_Merlin cleared his throat, trying his best to clamp down on his grin. This moment called for somber behavior—even if it was just for laughs later. "Yes, sire."Merlin nodded solemnly. "Anything else? A minstrel? A pair of fine livestock? Maybe a few rainbows and—"_

_"Do shut up, Merlin," Arthur cut in snidely, his face breaking out in a grin. "But maybe a rainbow or two, and one of those unicorns you're so fond of. That shouldn't be over doing it."_

_Merlin snorted. "No, _of course not_. A unicorn, two rainbows, and a bouquet of the world's most rare flowers, are completely normal." Merlin snickered, watched Arthur manfully ignore both Merlin and the blush pinking on his Highness' own face._

_"Do as you're told, Merlin," the king replied in his haughtiest tone, looking down his nose at Merlin. "I don't keep you around for your mouth."_

_"No, you keep me around for the magic," Merlin said, and blanched. "I mean—you _don't_ just keep me around for my magic—it's that you're—"_

_"It's alright, Merlin," Arthur waved a hand at him, taking his chair again. "No one can deny your power, and you're right, I do use your magic often. You're the most powerful wizard in the land."_

_Merlin snorted, covered it up with a cough. This was the weakest he'd ever been. Not that Arthur or anyone would know as much. Well, Uther would have noticed. And Morgana, if she were in her right mind._

_"But," Arthur continued, knocking his foot against Merlin's under the table. "I'd be mad if I kept you around for just that alone." Arthur's eyes raked over his face, and Merlin felt a blush coat his cheeks. "Your idiocy alone is worth its weight in gold," Arthur said at length, his eyes ceasing their perusal and landing back on Merlin's eyes._

_Merlin snorted again, this time not covering it up. "I'm beside myself from all these compliments. Please, do continue."_

_"I think not," Arthur said with a laugh. "If I say more, your head will be too large to fit through the door."_

_"Was it really love at first sight for you? With Gwen, I mean," Merlin asked, watched Arthur's face soften, the king never missing a beat when it came to his abrupt subject changes._

_Arthur smiled, eyes growing distant for a moment before settling back on Merlin. "Yes, it was. Once I'd noticed she was there."_

_Merlin rolled his eyes. "And how exactly does that work out?"_

_"Not everyone is like you, Merlin," Arthur chastised, grinning. "We all can't charge into a room and make grandiose statements to save a friend's life, or drink poison to make a point, or traipse off to an evil sorceress' castle and save Morgana for the second time."_

_"Oh please," Merlin pointed a finger in Arthur's face, outraged. "Don't act like you weren't there for every last one of those. It's hardly fair to pin all that on me—"_

_"Either way," Arthur continued with a low level glare in Merlin's direction. "Not everyone is a legend maker. So, it sometimes takes a little longer for people such as ourselves to notice others. Gwen is…she's brave, and loyal, and kind hearted and wise and—"_

_"Beautiful," Merlin added, the corner of his mouth turned up._

_"Beautiful," Arthur repeated, looking at Merlin funny. "And even though she doesn't set about life trying to make herself a legend, she's still memorable."_

_Gwen was all those things Arthur said and more, but there was one fault, one pitfall that she would stumble over, time and again._

_Lancelot._

_Truthfully, it would be better for Merlin to resurrect Sophia from the dead and have her be Queen, than for Gwen to fill the role. Not that he'd tell Arthur that._

_"I've noticed Gwen hasn't mentioned Lancelot for a long while now," Arthur said, searching Merlin's face._

_"Don't worry Arthur," Merlin said, faking a long suffering sigh. "She'll let you court her, no doubt about it."_

_No doubt, because Merlin Saw it. Gwen will accept Arthur's proposal, and they will be married later in the year, and next spring, Lancelot will return, right after Arthur and Merlin have left for the battle against Mercia, the first of many battles that will solidify Arthur as a legend, no, _the_ legend._

_But there were other parts—the parts no one talked about after the original legend makers were long dead. No one ever mentioned that the year wouldn't be out before Gwen, needing consoling because she hadn't fallen pregnant before Arthur and Merlin left for Mercia, would go to Lancelot. And their affair would start. And it would signify the beginning of the end, even though it was so frighteningly early in Arthur's reign, and Arthur was just starting to come into his own._

_But it would get worse, and Merlin hoped against hope that Morgana will be of use and not a hindrance. He still had hope—Morgana said it would be alright in the end. Merlin had to believe it was still the case._

_Even if, just last week, Morgana had a vision of Mordred._

oOo

Merlin couldn't imagine Gwen and Lancelot not existing during this day and age. Fate, Destiny, _whoever_, would bring them back, even if it was just to spite Merlin.

He'd checked on Gwen and Lancelot while Arthur was alive the first time. It was as if they'd leeched all the love and joy from Arthur's life and added it to their own. All that concerned Gwen and Lancelot was their love and what their love could do for them.

The sad part was, they didn't even realize they did it.

They had no idea how much people—namely, Arthur—sacrificed so they could love each other. Just for that, Merlin couldn't sympathize with their situation. Arthur forgave them the first time around, but Merlin lacked the ability.

Merlin hoped that Arthur, this time around, was spared any feelings toward either Gwen or Lancelot. He hoped Arthur never met them.

"You know what your problem is?" Archie said from Merlin's shoulder as they enjoyed the evening out on the terrace.

"I'm sure you'll tell me," Merlin answered, lounging against the cushions, lazily counting the stars above them.

"You want Arthur as devoted to you as you are to him," Archie said as he hopped off Merlin's shoulder and sat by his ankles on the chaise lounge. "It's not going to happen."

Merlin looked at Archie; a tree a few meters away snapped in half, falling to the ground with a resounding crash, the earth underneath Merlin and Archie trembled.

"I don't want that," Merlin said after the noise dispersed into the forest around them. "And if it were like that, it would be a complete disaster."

"You're avoiding again," Archie sing-songed. "And this level of avoidance will get you nowhere."

"Why does everyone think I'm avoiding?" Merlin said as he sat up, throwing his hands up in the air. "I'm perfectly _fine_."

"Who's everyone?" Archie asked, head tilted. "You don't talk to anyone except me. And no, you aren't fine, Merlin. There are things you need to let go."

Merlin stood, paced the length of the terrace. "What is there to let go? I've got _nothing_. All I have is my memories, and that's all I'm ever going to have. So excuse me if I think about a time in my life where I had an actual friend I didn't have to conjure."

"I don't want you to let go of the memories," Merlin heard Archie say to his back as he paced away from the chair. "Just of what Arthur Pendragon used to be. There's a high chance that he won't be the boy you once knew. There's no guarantees he won't have a drastic personality change."

Merlin snorted, turning back to Archie. "He won't be too changed. He wouldn't be Arthur, once and future king, if that were the case."

"Fine," Archie dipped his head, conceding. "But be prepared if he doesn't automatically embrace his destiny."

Merlin frowned at Archie. "Why are you telling me all this?" he asked, walking back to the  
lounge and sitting down.

"Don't you think you've wasted enough time as it is?" Archie said, giving Merlin a doleful look. "It's time."

Merlin was already shaking his head before Archie finished. "No, we're not ready yet. There's still plenty to do."

Archie sighed, turned his head and looked at the broken tree, looked at Merlin askance. "You know next to nothing about him. You rely too much on the spell to keep him safe and blatantly avoid any information you might attain through all our wanderings. What are you _doing_, Merlin? You agreed to see Morgana, and two years later, you still haven't. We've been busy bees, but have produced no honey—"

"We're giving him time to grow," Merlin cut in. "He needs the chance to thrive and have the life he deserves. Trouble free existence—"

"He's sixteen now," Archie said, raising his voice. "If we give him any more time to grow, he'll be old and dead by the time you're ready to face him, changed Arthur or not."

"But, it's for—"

"What did you tell me when you gave me life?" Archie said quietly, eyes steady on Merlin. "You told me to prevent you from making more regrets. You asked me to tell you everything you didn't want to hear."

Merlin looked away from Archie and to the sky, his eyes burning. "Yeah."

"It's time, Merlin."

Merlin turned back to Archie, forcing a smile; the tree repaired itself and stood tall and proud once again. "Yes, it's time," he said, blinking out of existence.

"You're asexual," Emmy said, matter-of-fact. "There's no other explanation for it."

Despite the first kiss (snog, really) Emmy and Sean shared the night of the Nimueh and Mordred debacle, they'd been dating unofficially since they were twelve—Corbin had proof (googley eyes, mostly, but for Emmy and Sean, that might as well be proposals of marriage). But Emmy wanted to do couple-y things with Sean and Corbin, things she couldn't convince them to do (like double dates and all that sickening rubbish) because Corbin wouldn't cooperate, the fault resting with his "obvious" asexuality. Corbin couldn't be angry at Emmy, he understood her reasoning. They—him, Emmy and Sean—did things as a group, always.

Emmy and Sean spent most of their childhood dancing round each other, and Corbin got over being the ever-present gooseberry when they were eight. Up until recently, Corbin hadn't wanted to be separated from them any more than Emmy and Sean wanted to be from him. They were a unit, always and forever. Besides, Corbin was _brilliant_, and he wouldn't be doing anyone any favors by depriving them (nay, the world) of all _this_. There would be panic in the streets.

But now, at the collective age of sixteen (fine, Sean was freshly seventeen and with a brand new Porsche, but _really_, no one was counting any of that except the car. Sean's mental age was much lower than his actual age, which had stopped at thirteen), the three of them always together, seemed odd. They were too close.

"_Or_," Sean said as he stopped twirling in Corbin's desk chair, gave an Emmy incriminate glare, "Corbin hasn't met the right girl."

Corbin nodded, co-signing heartily. Sean was always a great mate—

"It'll take a _very_ special sort of girl to be with him," Sean continued. "What with the odd things he mutters—and the high chance the Magical Hand of Doom could as easily swat her down as shake her hand."

Sean could be an idiot, but he was honest—brutally so. Corbin did say odd things at random moments, he had to admit. And the energy in his chest might have well been a certified weapon.

But—"Git," Corbin grumbled as he shifted on the beanbag chair by his bed.

For a change of scenery, Emmy and Sean met at Corbin's flat instead of Corbin catching a cab to one of their homes (or their drivers coming to pick him up, which was the habit of things). Thanks to Corbin's mum's position working for Emmy's mum, he and his mum could avoid the tube more often than not—well, they still rode with Emmy's parents frequently, but Igraine refused to count on connections to get Corbin in Uni, so they lived in Kingston in a two bedroom flat that allowed them to live semi-comfortably. But he'd picked up a few more shifts at the grocer down the road; just in case he needed money for the tube or other activities.

His room wasn't small, exactly, but compared to Emmy and Sean's gargantuan dwellings, it was miniscule. He had a single bed pushed up against the wall opposite the door, small desk and a three-tier bookcase against the other wall by his closet, bed, a bean bag squeezed into the last bit of space between Corbin's bed and desk.

Corbin couldn't feel any more like the charity case that he was when Emmy and Sean came round, but they never made him feel that way.

Emmy grinned, clapped her hands from her repose on Corbin's bed. "What about Vivian? She's been eyeing you for ages. Why don't you ask her out?"

Corbin shuddered. Vivian eyed him, alright. She also broke into his locker and left photo-shopped photos of them together at varying sporting events. The one with him and Emmy that the crazy harpy has pasted her face over Emmy's, smiling garishly, still gave Corbin nightmares.

"Um, no. Vivian's a pass," he said giving Emmy a betrayed look. "I don't need to be set up, okay? Why don't you two go out by yourselves tonight?" he suggested, looked between Emmy and Sean's dubious faces. "You haven't had a date _ever_, am I right?"

Sean turned in the chair, listing back and forth as he inspected Corbin. "Is there something you haven't told us, mate? You aren't _really_ asexual, are you?"

Corbin shoved the heels of his hands into his eyes, envisioned them as kabob sticks. "Just because I want the lot of you to have a proper date by _yourselves_, doesn't mean I'm asexual." He suppressed the urge to leap from his flat, and looked at his friends. "You two are capable of doing things without me, aren't you?"

"You're not the center of our world," Sean said, as Emmy—"I'm not sure," said at the same time, fiddling with her thumb nail, lips curled.

Corbin willfully ignored Emmy for his touch-and-go sanity, arching a brow at Sean. "Prove it. Go out tonight."

Sean nodded, accepting Corbin's challenge. "We will, and it will be _amazing_."

"Are you sure about this?" Emmy asked, searching Corbin's face while Sean stood and yanked on her arm. "It all seems a bit sudden."

Corbin smiled. Bless Emmy and her sweet, sweet heart. "I'll be fine. Don't you think it's odd you and Sean don't do anything alone?"

Emmy shrugged, her eyes still on Corbin as Sean dragged her (muttering quite colorful swear words, prattling on about epic adventures or some such nonsense) to the bedroom door. "But that's what we're here for: to keep your loneliness away."

Corbin flinched. Emmy hadn't Seen anything pertaining to him for so long, Corbin forgot what it was like to be the subject of that look, that voice.

Not that Emmy had to See anything. Corbin's loneliness was a fact; a part of who he was, among other things.

The energy in his chest wasn't what made Corbin odd. It was the madness that course through his veins.

What Corbin could remember of his father was sparse. He suspected it was his way of blocking out the worst of times. Either way, Arthur Smith was dour when he wasn't raving to the general populace that magic _did_ exist, and it was going to destroy the world. The only way to eradicate it was to rise as a people and end the lives of any and every person who might embrace magic.

At fifteen, in a bout of frankness Corbin hadn't expected of his mother, (they did not talk about his father as a rule) she explained why Corbin hadn't shared his father's name.

"Your father believed he was cursed," she'd whispered, her eyes focused out the kitchen window, a mug of tea gripped tight in her hands that masked most of her tired, weary face. "And anyone with the name Arthur was destined to have a horrible, troublesome, lonely life."

It didn't help that all of Corbin's relatives on his father's side with the name Arthur either lived or died tragically.

Just like any disease, Arthur had good days and bad.

On the good days, Corbin's father would sit him down and regale him with epic stories. Tales filled with dragons, towering castles, noble Kings and their fight against dragons, warlocks and other supernatural beings. The King and his knights didn't always win, but they lived to fight another day. Corbin valued the good days, they were rare.

The bad days were plentiful. Arthur was abusive to his wife and child, not limiting himself to the verbal side of the equation. Truthfully, Corbin preferred the various bruises, gashes and broken bones to what Arthur could spew at him on any given day.

Father said a plethora of things on the darkest days, none of them lending to sense, at first. But Corbin supposed they made a sort of sense, and not to just to Father.

There had been a time line to his father's outbursts and ramblings, Corbin figured out when he was twelve, but not necessarily the same life. Or, Corbin hoped it wasn't the same life.

"He built Stonehenge for me," Arthur would say early in the day, usually signaling to Corbin and mum it wouldn't be one of those rare happy days. "Said he'd protect me forever."

"He told me all about you," his father would say to Corbin later in the day, a beatific smile on his face that chilled Corbin to the bone. "He told me you would be such a great King. You would continue what I'd accomplished."

It went downhill from there, without fail.

"He _killed_ me and you let him do it!" Arthur would growl, usually with his hands wrapped round Corbin's neck. "Why would you do that? He should have _burned_. You should have avenged me!"

By that time, his mum would usually wake up from where father had kicked or hit her unconscious and she'd jump on father's back, or better yet, administer the long overdue injection.

By then, Corbin had almost always blacked out, but like always, he heard Arthur's parting words before fleeing to the darkness. The same words every time.

"I hope you died alone," Arthur would snarl, spittle flying. "I hope he betrayed you like you both betrayed me."

Corbin didn't look forward to the years ahead, for the most part. He never thought too hard on why he'd become such good friends with Emmy, despite his father's dark words against magic repeating in his head non-stop for the first year after they met at the law firm's Christmas party. But, there hadn't been a need for exploration, of explanation. Corbin knew why: Emmy (and Sean, just by being there) relieved his loneliness, kept any voices from another time, another _life_ at bay.

But, as wonderful as their constant presence was, Emmy and Sean didn't relieve the burden and belief that someone out there in the world _really_ hated Corbin.

Frankly, if it wasn't for the energy pulsing in him, Corbin was pretty sure he would've already descended into madness ages ago. And not just because of all the protecting the energy had been up to.

It gave Corbin hope for the future. The energy in his chest meant someone wanted to protect him, yes; but it also meant someone cared. They thought Corbin more than a charity case, that he had worth.

So, Corbin waited, not exactly lonely with Emmy and Sean, but not fully content either. He waited, hoping his benefactor—real protector, not just raw power—would show himself and give Corbin the chance to thank him for keeping him sane.

Corbin smiled at Emmy again, coming out of his reverie. "Go," he said, made shooing motions with his hands. "I'll wait here."

In the end, it was all he could do.

oOo

Emmy and Sean weren't gone two hours before Corbin's mobile rang.

He rolled his eyes, bemused. Cleary he was going to need to start a weaning process for his friends. "Hullo?"

"Corbin!" Emmy said, her usual excitement up ten notches, at least. "You won't _believe_ who Sean just hit!"


	4. Part 4

7.

Merlin knew about Gaius' rebirth for over thirty years, but at the time Arthur hadn't been reborn, there seemed no point in pursuing it. Especially given where Gaius resided. Merlin never approached Gaius, but watched from afar, checking on him every few years. As of yet, Merlin had no idea what part Gaius would play in the greater scheme of things, _if_ he would play a part.

Merlin crouched on the stonewall just outside Gaius' compound, tilted his head to the night sky. He grinned, started humming the _Star Wars_ theme.

"One day I'm going to pluck your eyes out and be completely justified," Archie remarked snarkily as he landed on Merlin's shoulder; talon's digging in particularly deep. "I hate those films."

"You'll never be able to say it wasn't me calling you," Merlin said, snickering as he jumped off the stone wall, soundless and unaided by magic. He hadn't been clumsy for years; once he'd remembered he was never clumsy to begin with.

"That's rich," Archie harrumphed, feathers fluttering. "Magic ties me to you. No getting round _that_."

It was true; Merlin wouldn't deny it, didn't regret it, even after their earlier conversation.

They made their way to the main road, the air crisp, and the wind cool as it glided against Merlin's skin. Tonight wasn't the night for anymore quick flights or teleportations; it begged to be experienced in all its glory. He wasn't ready to return to the house just yet.

"You're my friend," Merlin said, twisting his wrist, cloaking them both in shadow.

"Always," Archie said simply. "Tonight's a good night for a walk, don't you think?"

Merlin chuckled, at peace. "There you go again, reading my mind."

oOo

"You've gone and done it now," Archie muttered from a tree top by the road. "_Idiot_."

"It was an accident," Merlin said, sprawled on the grass. The undercarriage of a Porsche atop him. "This is why we shouldn't pop up in a cloud of smoke all the time. This is why I should use the car and license occasionally."

"_What license and car?_"Archie near hollered, swooping down to the ground at the tree line, a few meters from where Merlin lay while two passengers were still in hysterics inside the vehicle. "They aren't bloody _real_. You magicked them!"

"Not now," Merlin muttered as he scooted out from under the car, not bothering to check for injuries. Actually, he was more worried for the car and its passengers than himself. "I need to figure out what to do."

"What to do?" Archie asked, sounding near hysterical. "You _erase their memories and fix the car_."

Merlin got up, dusted off his trousers and jumper. "Magic isn't the answer to everything," he admonished as the doors to the car opened. "Or, it shouldn't be."

The couple bounced out of their car, the girl joining the boy's side around the back of the car, standing with him as he inspected his car.

Magic trickled down Merlin's spine and he shuddered, taken aback by magic being here, on an empty road in the country. It was odd.

Merlin cleared his throat, hoped to make himself known. "Erm, hi."

"What the—" the boy jumped, his dark hair falling out of his face as he turned around and faced Merlin. "Were you planning to kill us? That why you sneaked up on us?" the boy said, voice loud in the quiet emptiness around them.

And _oh God_, this wasn't how it was supposed to happen.

Merlin blinked, looked at the blue eyed boy, feeling his jaw unhinge. Why hadn't he known about this? "Your hit me with your car," he said slowly, forcing the words out and trying to regain his equilibrium.

"Yeah," the boy nodded, as if Merlin were the one who was slow. "You look alright to me, but this is a _new car_."

Merlin wished could've said the boy's assumptions to his inability to pick up a clue was a surprise, but really, that would be a grievous lie.

"Doesn't mean you should sneak up on us and try to finish us off," the boy continued, voice rising.

"Calm down," the girl droned, like she was saying a common phrase. She stepped from behind the boy and looked at Merlin, her grey eyes, small mouth and childlike features exactly the same as they'd been in her previous life.

She frowned. Merlin flinched. "I know you, don't I?" she asked, taking a half step toward him, then stopped, apparently thinking better of it.

_I killed you. Merlin shook his head, his stomach turning. "Nope, I don't believe so."_

_The girl's frown deepened; she searched his face as she sucked on her bottom lip. "You're lying," she declared not unkindly, after a stretch of silence. "But I won't push."_

_Don't do me any favors. "I've no real reason to lie," Merlin said, though he was pretty sure his grim tone gave up the ghost._

_The girl smirked, offered her hand to him. "I'm Emmy," Sophia said, and pointed at Will with her other hand, "and this is Sean, my boyfriend. Thanks for not being angry at Sean's dodgy driving abilities."_

_"Don't bloody thank him," Will—Sean—practically shouted as he glared at Merlin. "I just got this car and the night's still young. No telling what he's got planned." Sean (oh, he was going to have a time of it remembering their names) stepped close to Merlin, wagged a finger under his nose. "I'm on to you. My girl's parents are top barristers. They'll have you in chains by dawn—"_

_"Please do shut up, Sean," Emmy hissed, and instead of taking Merlin's hand, she used her own to yank Sean back to her side. "Mum and dad have better things to do than getting us out of prison."_

_Merlin smiled despite himself. This situation was very odd._

_Apparently comfortable that Sean wouldn't assault Merlin, Emmy smiled and offered her hand again. "Don't mind him, he's convinced everyone's out to get us."_

_Not so changed then. Merlin laughed, took Emmy's hand—_

_He dropped Emmy's hand, took a step back. "You're a magic user."_

_How did he not know?_

_Sophia held her hand tight to her chest, eyes wide. "How did you—I felt that, your magic."_

_This wasn't funny anymore, nor was it odd. This was no coincidence. There was no way Merlin would be leaving Gaius' compound, just to be hit by a car carrying Will and Sophia. It was too easy. And Sophia being gifted with magic and him not knowing? How was that possible? She wasn't human the first time around, she and her kind didn't get rebirthed. They were Fey. Besides, he would—_

_The fist to his mouth was a shock; knocked Merlin out of his thoughts and onto the ground._

_"Don't you touch my girlfriend!" Sean yelled as he towered over Merlin, face red and spittle flying._

_"Sean, don't!" Emmy said behind them, voice threaded with both concern and fear. "It's okay."_

_Merlin stood, shoving Sean off him when the kid didn't give him space to get up. The urge to use magic to settle things was heady, tempting. Merlin swallowed, closed his eyes and pushed back the anger._

_He turned his face to the side; spit the blood that filled his mouth on the ground. "Do you—" still "—jump to conclusions often?" He said as he ignored Archie's poor attempts at hooting. "I didn't mean to hurt her."_

_"It didn't look like that from where I was standing," Sean snarled, his hands squeezed into fists when Merlin could stand to look at him again. Sean shifted on his feet, lip twisted. "I—"_

_"He's a magic user, like me," Emmy cut in, glanced at Merlin like she couldn't help herself, her eyes settling on him seemingly against her will despite her blatant concern for Sean. "It was just a bit of a shock. It wasn't on purpose."_

_"Magic?" Sean said, voice barely a whisper. But Merlin didn't think Sean was surprised—at least not about knowing Emmy was a magic user, but more the realization that Merlin was like her._

_Sean turned to him. "Do you know magic? Are you like her?"_

_Merlin watched Sean, then Emmy. In the past, Merlin would've been eager to talk to another magic user, especially one he previously knew, wanting to share information, insight._

_Life, since then, was a long and endless road. Merlin wasn't changed, but he had to admit (grudgingly) he wasn't the same. Life sometimes forced adjustments._

_The urge to kill Emmy for her past crimes to Arthur again—whether she remembered them or not—was strong._

_But it could wait._

_Merlin shrugged. "Magic uses me," he replied, attention falling to Sean and back to Emmy. "How did you get it?"_

_"I didn't get it," she said, clearly incredulous. "I've always had it."_

_Merlin nodded, his mind whirling. There was a way to get answers. He stepped close to Emmy, tried to look as harmless as possible. Sean tensed by her side, and he stopped his approach._

_"I'm going to touch her, okay?" he said, giving Sean a level look._

_The nod Sean gave him was almost imperceptible, but Merlin took what he could get. Sean's actions made his hackles rise. He knew Sean, even if he was called Will in the other life, and he was a lot of things, but possessive wasn't one. There had to be a reason._

_Merlin smiled at Emmy, putting away that nugget for another time. She looked both curious and anticipatory. He reached for her shoulders, met her grey eyes head on. "May I?"_

_Before Emmy had finished agreeing, he let his magic pulse out of him, into her._

_He'd never had to do this before, search the source of magic in another being. He'd always known. It was impossible for him not to know._

_Well, that was what he'd thought._

_The majority of the magic in Emmy's soul wasn't blue—Merlin's color, the source of his magic—but a jade green._

_The magic wasn't his. Well, the core of it was. The sphere of magic in the center of Sophia's soul was royal blue at the middle, but around the sphere it was colored green. It made sense, oddly, that Emmy's magic looked like that—a green outer but a blue center—but it was early, the change from blue to green, and not just inside Emmy._

_He'd shared a part of himself a long time ago, before he knew what the world would do. Back when he trusted and loved without reserve. That it, the combination of the piece of himself and the piece he'd given out of trust would be here now, was altogether surprising and expected._

_How could Destiny be at work before the prescribed time? Before Arthur remembered?_

_"You're powerful. The most powerful person I've ever met."_

_Emmy's words were welcome and Merlin opened his eyes, smiled. "That's not too surprising. You probably haven't met many like yourself."_

_Emmy dropped her eyes, an almost imperceptible tremor going through her. If Merlin hadn't been looking for it, he was positive he would have missed it._

_"We've run into a few nutters," Sean said as he stepped close to Emmy, taking her hand, his concern for her showing in every inch of his body. "We've learned to be careful."_

_And Sean learned to protect her, Merlin noted, getting the explanation for Sean's earlier actions. He didn't think he'd be so heartened by Will being pretty much the same, even hundreds of years and a rebirth later._

_Merlin smiled, nodded. "Better safe than sorry." He looked behind them at the car, where he'd dented the hood with his body. He was slight, but the magic inside him was substantial enough that, if he were to be caught unawares, it could do serious damage from the sheer (invisible to the naked eye) mass of it. "We should discuss the car. I could, erm, fix it."_

_"No, mate," Sean said, waving Merlin's suggestion away. "I've got my own mechanic—"_

_"You mean you can fix it with magic?" Emmy interjected, face lighting up like a department store on Boxing day._

_"Wait, you can do that?" Sean said as he gave Merlin a once over._

_Merlin grinned. "Sure."_

_A crunching sound came from the Porsche and Sean and Emmy jumped, turned around. By the time Merlin had their backs, the car was back to its previous condition, no doubt pristine._

_Emmy squealed, the sound ringing in the trees around them. She whipped round back to Merlin, mouth hanging open. "That's brilliant! How'd you learn to do that? Do you get in accidents often?"_

_"I didn't have to learn it," Merlin said, firm. He smiled, bemused, as Sean ran his hands over the bonnet, cooing quietly._

_Emmy sighed, gave Merlin a sharp look, eyes gliding back to Sean. "I've gotten used to being the other woman in this relationship too soon."_

_Merlin chuckled, throat dry. "I—"_

_"Here, let me give you my mobile number," Emmy cut in as she stuck her hand in her jacket pocket._

_"Uh, I don't have a mobile—on me," Merlin finished lamely, retreating quickly to the forest's edge near Archie's silent waiting form. He needed time to process the night, and now that he'd touched Emmy, it was near impossible to not know where she was at any given time. "I'll just—"_

_"Here," Emmy ran up to Merlin and took his right hand, scribbling a series of numbers and letters (what looked like her mobile and home address) on his palm—in permanent marker. "Call me, please?"_

_She gave him big eyes, and despite the fact Merlin had killed her (and gladly, mind) in a previous time, he felt guilt._

_He groaned, nodded. "Yes, I'll call you."_

_"Thank you!" she squealed again, clapping her hands like a toddler on speed. "It's got to be fate—" Merlin flinched "—that we've met. I've some less than pleasant run-ins with other magic users and you and Jessica—she's the other one—are the only ones who've treated me kindly—"_

_"Right," Merlin cut in, frazzled. He lifted his chin, felt the darkness gather around him, waiting. "I really need to—"_

_"Do you need us to give you a ride anywhere…you never told us your name," Emmy said, head tilted, face a mask of confusion._

_Merlin blinked, the darkness retreated a bit. "Merlin. Name's Merlin."_

_"The Merlin?" Emmy squeaked, and she bounced on her feet. "The Merlin who loved Nimueh, the Lady of the Lake?"_

_Merlin swallowed, nauseous. "Yes, something like that."_

_Sean, no longer captivated with his car stood by Emmy, watched Merlin warily. "If you were to run into Nimueh now, what would you do?"_

_"Kill her," Merlin said without hesitation as he eyed Sean and Emmy's shuttered faces. "What is it? Tell me."_

_"She…" Emmy began, glancing at Sean. "Nimueh said a great wizard was coming; that unless he was stopped, he would destroy the world."_

_"Merlin was a great wizard, yeah?" Sean said, his head turned just so, that old suspicion he possessed in his previous life as Will coming off him in waves._

_Merlin stilled, felt Archimedes do the same behind him. "When did you meet Nimueh?"_

_"A little over two years ago, but she's gone now. Her and a bloke named Mordred."_

_"How did they go?" Merlin demanded as he strode closer to the couple, ignored their step back. "How?"_

_"Are you a great wizard?" Sean said, the stubbornness of Will shining through his voice. "We don't know who you are—you answer us."_

_"I'm Merlin," he answered slowly, honestly, a little impressed and a lot sad. Will hadn't changed at all. "And yes, I'm a wizard."_

_But Merlin hoped he wasn't meant to destroy the world._

_"I've felt you, and," Emmy shook her head, her eyes asking things Merlin didn't understand. "I don't believe you're a bad person. I think if you were truly bad, I would have Seen us meeting you."_

_The wind picked up around them and magic Merlin hadn't felt in a long time, earthen magic, infused the air around them. Words written in gold floated around him and the couple, whispers joining in soon after, telling Merlin in a lost language all he needed to know._

_Not only had the time come for Merlin to fulfill his purpose, but, this was the beginning of the return of the once and future King._

_Arthur._

_"I don't want to destroy the world," Merlin croaked, gob smacked. "And if I did, it would be because something truly unforgivable happened." Like Arthur dying again. He shuddered, remembering the vow he'd made to a dead Arthur as he kneeled at the King's feet. "But I don't think she was talking about me." He hoped Nimueh wasn't._

_"I believe you," Emmy said. Merlin blinked and watched Sean nod beside her._

_"There's—I—" Merlin swallowed. "There's something I need to attend to. Right now, actually,"_

_Merlin inclined his head, smiled. "But I will contact you. Soon."_

_Emmy nodded quickly, her mobile clutched in her hand. "We'll be waiting."_

_"And don't take too long," Sean said, walking back to the Porsche._

_Merlin nodded. "Stay safe." He turned away from them, and walked into the trees, the darkness shrouding him the instant he unclenched his hand. As he walked away, he could hear Emmy talking rapidly into her phone to some unfortunate bloke. Words almost a blur._

_He sent a small bit of protection magic Sean and Emmy's way, just in case. It would probably fade to nothing by the time they were one hundred-fifteen years old, relatively speaking._

_"You never told me about him," Artie said as he landed on Merlin's shoulder, voice carefully devoid of inflection. "That Sean fellow. And Emmy—I could tell you knew her just by the way you stood ready to strike her down."_

_It hadn't hurt to see Will. Merlin wasn't hurt or sad (well, not overly much) or happy. He was—he had no feelings about Will, and other than residual anger over Sophia's past deeds, he felt nothing for her as well._

_That was what he told himself, at least._

_"Sean seemed like a nice chap, and Emmy sweet—though excitable," Artie uttered, voice tinged with a sort of wistful, hopeful speculation. "For what it's worth, I'm glad you didn't kill them."_

_Merlin glided through the woods until he reached its center. He cleared his throat, the trees in a three meter radius dissolving, leaving behind nothing but grass, like there was never anything else. Merlin snorted, looked at Artie's defiant face on his shoulder. Of course the owl would take an instant shine to anyone willing to attack him physically; so few dared. "You and Will—erm, Sean—will get on well."_

_"As I've said, I learned many things about you tonight," Archie began. "I—"_

_"What happened before doesn't matter." Merlin glanced at the owl, wary of the direction of the conversation._

_"Oh, now he takes my advice." Archie grumbled. "Hypocrite, they name is Merlin Emrys. Please," Archie quietly implored, humor and derision gone. "How am I supposed to help you if you withhold information?"_

_Merlin looked at Archie, took in the owl's frustrated twitching and quiet exasperation. They'd had this conversation before, and not just that night._

_Merlin smiled. "You haven't failed me yet."_

_Archie hummed tunelessly, amused as he looked at Merlin askance. "You're a horrible friend."_

_Merlin laughed, kept his smile in place and shrugged his unoccupied left shoulder. "Never said I was anything different."_

_"So, what are we doing exactly?" Archie asked after a bit of comfortable silence, his left wing brushing against Merlin's head._

_Merlin lifted his left finger, drew it down vertically in the air in front of him. Like a trouser zipper, space and time opened for him, revealing a formless light on the other side. "We're going to see if my theory's correct." Merlin stepped through the opening, his and Artie's forms dissolving instantaneously._

_Energy. Merlin was formless energy. Directionless, cerebral, deadly._

_He hated coming here, as it was the space that caged him while Arthur lost his life._

_Merlin always felt directionless here, in this non-existence, and it reminded him of his purpose on the earth and just how much of a tool he really was. Here, in the Void between time and space, Merlin was nothing but a concept._

_Merlin was the light, yet separated by it. There was no way to speak here, where he floated about as nothing but particles, an untested theory. Until he left the space and took a form again, he never really remembered he wasn't a theory or an idea, but a fact._

_All Merlin could do here was feel, and he did._

_He felt for their presence, what defined them, and wasn't disappointed._

_Nimueh and Mordred were in the Void—he could feel the evil—their current lives paused until Merlin or someone like him could pull them out. He didn't hesitate; he left them in the Void, tightened their binding to keep them there forever, the non-space feeling lighter now that their presence was more confined in the non-place. It wasn't the best idea to let Nimueh and Mordred loose on the world again, but if by some chance they did escape, he would kill them before they drew breath._

_Besides, Arthur's legend had never really been about them._

_Merlin stepped through the Void and back to earth, his and Archie's body's taking form as quickly as they lost them._

_"How in the world did those two end up in the Void?" Archie said, gasping a bit on Merlin's shoulder, wings ruffling anxiously._

_The transition from the Void back to earth, where everything was so very solid, was always hard on the owl. "I didn't put them there," he said unnecessarily, ignored Archie's snort. "But someone must have—someone close to Emmy and Sean."_

_There was no room for coincidences in Merlin's life. There was no way Emmy and Sean—Sophia and Will—could have a run-in with Nimueh and Mordred, survive the encounter, only to hit him with their car._

_"This is complicated," Archie said, his talons digging into Merlin's skin as they walked out of the clearing. Merlin swallowed and the trees materialized again, the center of the woods whole and healthy._

_"Didn't you know?" Merlin said, unable to keep the bitterness out of his tone. "Apparently I'm a great wizard dead set on destroying the world."_

_Artie scoffed. "The idea is both laughable and a horrifying reality."_

_"There's a trap set," Merlin mused, looking through the trees to the stars. "And we're walking right into it."_

_Artie scoffed again, fluttered his wings. "As if you were expecting any different."_

_"I still want to enjoy the night," Merlin said at length, shrouding them once again in shadows. "From the looks of things, it'll be our last calm one."_

_"No doubt about that," Archie said. The bird sighed. "I can't actually look at it as a bad thing, though. The waiting is over."_

_"Yes." Merlin smiled at the moon, doing his best to find cheer where he could get it. "Arthur returns."_

_8._

_He found her at a café in South Kensington, not too far from Imperial College. She was seated out on the patio by the railing, with two others: Gwen and Lancelot._

_Merlin curled his lip. Of course._

_Merlin kept his distance, chose to watch them from the opposite side of the road to get a better feel of what he was walking into.  
They looked happy. Gwen was saying something or other, her tea forgotten in front of her, head tilted back as her hands flitted in the air; her dark curls piled high on her head with a tie haphazardly._

_Gwen had Lancelot's attention avidly –nothing new there. The former knight's eyes followed her hands and settled back on her face with a bemused smile, arms rested on the table, hands loose around a mug. Lancelot looked as besotted as always, something Merlin wished he could take pleasure in. As it was, he refused to._

_And then there was her: Morgana. She looked not like the day Merlin last saw her, but like the woman barely out of girlhood; when he'd dragged her back to Camelot after he'd found her with Morgause again, though the stricken look she had on her face after she watched Merlin burn Morgause alive wasn't there. Her hair was as long as ever, her skin milky smooth and pale; green eyes bright as she grinned and laughed with Lancelot at something Gwen said._

_All the scene was missing was Arthur._

_Merlin swallowed, calmed himself. This should have been my life._

_His heart clenched, his eyes drawn back to Morgana. He still loved her. Sad thing was, just like Uther, Merlin feared he was incapable of hating her._

_He made his way over to the table._

_Morgana looked up, caught his eye. She didn't look surprised, not that Merlin expected her to be._

_"Hi," he said as he took the available chair between Morgana and Gwen._

_Morgana's eyebrows rose as she brought her mug of tea to her mouth. It was always tea with Morgana. "Hello, Merlin."_

_"Merlin?" Gwen said as she looked at him, expression soft and friendly. "Like in Arthurian legend? Are you a magician like him—" she clamped her mouth shut, eyes wide. "I mean—"_

_"It's alright." Merlin said, waving Gwen's embarrassed sputtering away. "I'm a sorcerer."_

_"Merlin," Morgana cut in, inclined her head at Gwen and Lancelot's surprised faces. "Meet Daniella Worthington and Nicholas Ortiz," she said with a smile. "Daniella's postgraduate in medicine at Imperial, while I study at their business school, and Nick is an environmental law postgraduate at University College London. Today's one of our lighter class days, so we stopped by for a spot of tea."_

_"I take it you already know Jessica," Nick said smoothly, smirked at both Merlin and Jessica wryly. "How did you two meet?"_

_Merlin nodded, gave Morg—Jessica—a bemused smile. "Yes, Jessica and I practically grew up together."_

_Jessica rolled her eyes, placed her mug back on the table._

_"Really?" Daniella said, a curious look passing between her and Nick. "She's never mentioned you."_

_Merlin looked at Jessica. "I'm not surprised she doesn't talk about me. I'm a bit of a black sheep, if you can imagine."_

_"It's not too hard to," Jessica said, level, the tips of her lips turned up. "You'll always be a wild card."_

_Merlin shrugged. "We can't help who we are."_

_Jessica grimaced. "Yes, that's true, unfortunately."_

_Merlin leaned toward Jessica, placed his elbows on the table, created a steaming cup of tea. He heard, dimly, Daniella and Nick's gasps of shock. "You don't seem surprised to see me."_

_"You're only allowed to surprise me once," Jessica said, her smile small. "And that's more than anyone."_

_"Right," Merlin gritted his teeth and snapped his fingers; time stopped._

_Jessica chuckled, looked down at her tea a moment. "Snapping your fingers? When did you get so flashy?"_

_The world was still, cold and dead. Merlin didn't stop time often, but conversations with Jessica usually called for it. He glanced at Daniella and Nick, taking no joy in their frozen faces. Across the street, people were like snapshots: a group of what looked like university students were walking, their bodies frozen from one step to the next. Others, two girls like statues; their laughter cut off, their breaths like mosquito netting in the air around them, signifying in a cold indifferent way, the autumn weather. Everything, the whole world, was a mausoleum to humanity._

_It was a dead world, and Merlin caused it. But luckily, it wasn't permanent._

_"He'll be mad," Jessica said, tone as close to censure than Merlin had heard in many years. "You know how he gets."_

_Merlin rolled his eyes, turned back to her. "Me freezing time for a few minutes is the least of his concerns."_

_Jessica laughed again, green eyes full of mischief. "Still, the tantrum will be a riot."  
Merlin grinned. "Yeah, it will."_

_They shared a laugh, the tense atmosphere between them easing a bit. Merlin leaned closer, his hand touched Jessica's cheek of its own volition. "I hate that I've missed you," he all but whispered, his heart filled to bursting. Jessica leaned into his hand, kissed his palm, her lips warm. "Why haven't you come to see me?" he said, watched Jessica's hair shine on the dreary day._

_Jessica pulled away, recaptured her mug, hands shaking. "You're upset with me."_

_Merlin flinched. "Upset? You betrayed me—"_

_"You betrayed me first," Jessica said, eyes turning gold. "You always forget that part."_

_"She was going to use you," Merlin explained; explained for what had to be the umpteenth time. "You weren't yourself, and if Morgause ever found out—"_

_"I know, Merlin," Jessica said, sounding as exasperated as Merlin felt. "But she was the closest thing I ever had to a sister."_

_Merlin dropped his hand to the table, just then aware that it had been hanging uselessly in the air. "But she's not family."_

_Jessica smiled behind her cup, reached her hand out and patted Merlin's wrist. "No, she wasn't family."_

_"Besides," Merlin glanced at Daniella and Nick, amused. "I see you've snaked your way back into their lives."_

_Jessica grinned, looked at Daniella and Nick with fond eyes. "She's—they're—as wonderful as ever, that hasn't changed."_

_Merlin hummed noncommittally, eyes dropping to his cup._

_"You won't look at them for more than a moment," Jessica accused, her forefinger tapping Merlin's chin. "You need to stop blaming them for Arthur's broken heart. He wasn't as heartsick as you like to remember. Do you really think Gwen would have left Arthur if she believed, even for a minute, that Arthur would be alone?" she said, anger flashing in her eyes. "Think about it. It's high time you got over this useless grudge. Daniella and Nick don't remember, and I think there's a high chance they never will. They may have deserved your censure last time, but you're reaching if you think they do in this life."_

_Merlin lifted his eyes, pissed off, and met Jessica's accusations head on. "Forgive them? They have a habit of forgetting about everything that doesn't have to do with them and their love for each other. That's not okay."_

_"Oh, you're one to talk," Jessica scoffed, the heat leaving her eyes, replaced with sympathy. "They aren't the same, Merlin. None of this is the same."_

_Merlin hated sympathy. He grimaced. "We'll see."_

_Jessica sighed, rolling her eyes. She removed her hand, pity and disgust lacing her face. "Is this what I have to look forward to? Insanity or bitterness or both?"_

_"I'm not insane," Merlin replied, affronted. He was a lot of things, but insane wasn't one of them. Well, not as such._

_"I never said you were the crazy one." Jessica smiled, purely patronizing. "Still have Archimedes, then?"_

_Merlin frowned. Still? "He's after your time. How'd you know about him?"_

_"I've been awake longer than you think," she said, all nonchalance as she leaned back in her chair._

_"How long?" Merlin asked, bringing his right thumb to his mouth and biting on it._

_"A few years," she said with a knowing smirk._

_Merlin tsked, copied Jessica and leaned in his chair, the back of the chair digging into his shoulder blades. "Vague as always."_

_"Lazy as always," Jessica retorted. "Anyway, why do you have him?"_

_Merlin rubbed his nose, rested his hands in his lap. "He challenges me; keeps me sane." He chuckled grimly, glanced at Jessica's face, returned his eyes to his where he twisted his fingers. "Otherwise, I think we both know I'd be like you know who."_

_"Or like you were right after you lost Arthur," Jessica said, equally grim._

_Merlin didn't deny her words. The ground at Camlann was still dead in spots from the fire. He hadn't been the Man of the Woods for nothing. The time right after losing Arthur was the closest Merlin had ever been to true insanity—no, to true evil. Since then, he'd learned how to grieve properly._

_At least, that was what Merlin thought. He was the only sorcerer powerful enough to destroy the world. He'd been insane before, and it wasn't much of a reach to go there again, if Arthur Pendragon was taken from him._

_Merlin shifted forward in his chair, felt his eyes lose the last remnants of good cheer. "I've actually come here on business."_

_Jessica stiffened, eyes wary. "What's the business?" she asked, recovering a bit of her casual blasé exterior._

_Merlin wasn't fooled. He smirked. "Don't side with Fate. And if you already have, break out of whatever deal he has you roped in."_

_"He wants to make your life miserable," Jessica said, sighing a bit. "He's got a plan, I'm sure, and Arthur's at the center of it. But what makes you think me not siding with would stop him? Fate does what he likes."_

_"Yes," Merlin allowed with a nod. "But you working with him wouldn't hurt his chances."_

_Merlin touched Jessica's chin with his hand, bringing her eyes back to him where they'd wandered to the tabletop. "Just remember, whatever he can do to you for breaking your deal, I can do ten times worse."_

_"I have no illusions," Jessica snapped, yanking her chin out of Merlin's grasp, her face twisted in bitterness and anger. "When it comes to Arthur, it's impossible for you to keep the body count low."_

_Merlin didn't deny that either. But it didn't stop his incredulity. "I can't believe you," he hissed, agog. "You betrayed me. I chose you, thinking—believing—you'd help me save him. Arthur died, and all you had for me was a shrug and some utter tripe about Fate's fickle whims."_

_"You know I wasn't myself back then," Jessica reminded, sounding tired. "I was wrong. I shouldn't have been there at all."_

_Merlin's anger deflated as quickly as it came. He sighed. They were all so overly complicated. "I love you, you know I do." He took her hands in his own, their chilled fingers tangling together. "But if you side with him, or interfere in any way, I'll be forced to—well, don't make me choose between Arthur and you again. You've already had your chance."_

_Jessica squeezed his fingers, smiling softly at him, not looking threatened in the least, but sad, resigned. "I won't side with him again, Merlin. But I can't promise not to interfere; I'm already involved—but I'm not against you," she said quickly, cutting off the beginnings of Merlin's protests. "Really, Merlin, the two of you need to work out your differences."_

_Merlin took his hands back, sipped his tea for a reprieve. "You know what he did. He was power hungry, brought all this down on himself. None of this would've happened if he'd stuck to the deal struck—"_

_"Don't start," Jessica said, waving her hands in Merlin's face. "You started this, Merlin. You. And you brought this down on Arthur's head. The two of you fighting is all a bit ridiculous. The deal was struck, mistakes were made. It's been destined, what's supposed to happen to Arthur. Now pull yourself together, forget about what Fate's up to, and see Arthur."_

_"Was it you who put Nimueh and Mordred in the Void?" Merlin said, ignoring Jessica's outburst. Forgetting what Fate did was never going to be an option with him—probably the case for Fate as well, and Jessica should've known that. "I met Will and Sophia last night and they mentioned something about those two being gone. I had a bit of a gander, and low and behold, there were Nimueh and Mordred. You're making me have to do more work than needed, Jessica."_

_Jessica laughed, incredulous. "You worked hard back then, too. You always work hard. You need to knick Arthur and take a long holiday." Jessica paused long enough to rake her eyes over Merlin's body. She grimaced. "A really long holiday. You look like hell."_

_"I've a life to lead," Merlin replied, irritated. "Not all of us can take long naps."_

_Jessica snorted. "Well, at least now Arthur's here, you'll have someone to protect—whenever you actually get round to doing it, substitutes notwithstanding."_

_"It's bloody brilliant magic, I'll have you know," Merlin said, irritation growing. "I—"_

_"It was that magic that saved him and his friends," Jessica said as she gave Merlin an odd look. "For a moment there, I thought it wasn't going to work, the magic. I thought Emmy would die, followed shortly by Sean and Corbin."_

_Merlin stilled. "What? Emmy?"_

_Jessica pointed at Nick's frozen body. "Meet Nick, Emmy's older brother." She shook her head at Merlin. "Sean and Emmy—or to you, Will and Sophia—are Corbin's—Arthur's—childhood friends. His best friends, actually. The trio is hardly seen apart. The only reason I figure Sean and Emmy not telling you about how Nimueh and Mordred met their demise, is probably related to their protective instincts regarding Corbin."_

_Arthur, Will and Sophia—erm, Corbin, Sean and Emmy—were friends? Merlin blinked, boggled. "Is he happy? Arthur?" Merlin asked as he looked at Jessica._

_Jessica raised a brow. "Why haven't you seen him? I would've thought you would have been by his side before he finished drawing his first breath."_

_"Archimedes said the same; no doubt Fate assumed as much," Merlin grumbled. He rubbed his head, gave himself a moment to collect himself. "I…"_

_Jessica hummed, a low, sympathetic sound. She took his hands from his temples, placed them on the table. "Why are you scared?" she whispered, eyes big and green._

_Merlin closed his eyes and let himself be wrapped in Jessica's unique, calming scent. "I'm not ready," he said, opening his eyes, losing a piece of himself to Jessica. "I have decided to see him, finally, but…Once we meet, it's the beginning of the end for me."_

_Jessica squeezed his hands, face both understanding and open. "I'll take care of him, if you still decide to leave in the end."_

_Merlin squeezed her hand back, gave her a watery smile. "If the plan I'm forming goes the way it's 'posed to, you won't have to."_

_"You and your plans." Jessica smiled softly, fond. Some of the sadness left her as she pushed her shoulders back, tilted her head in a perfect imitation of himself. "It doesn't have to be this way," she said, a speculative twinkle in her eye._

_"It should be," Merlin returned, a little surprised by her comment. "I can't stay—I'll probably want to change things again and that's what got us in this rubbish in the first place."_

_"No, greed did," Jessica said, shaking her head all the while. "It wasn't your fault—it was initially—but it wasn't your fault how it all ended, Merlin. You were coping the best you could."_

_"This is the only chance I've got—Arthur's got. He can't be who he needs to be if he's dead." Merlin waved his free hand about them, encompassing their surroundings, the world. "If I don't protect him, make sure he defeats whatever evil he's been brought back to handle—" Merlin watched Jessica's face, was disappointed that she was as unreadable as ever "—then what good are we?"_

_"There was a need, it was filled," Jessica said calmly. "Nothing more, nothing less."_

_"I'd like to know when I leave," Merlin cleared his throat, his fingers sweaty in Jessica's hands, "I made a difference."_

_"Don't be silly," Jessica said as she bit back a laugh. "You're Merlin. You make an impact on the world whether we like it or not. Whether we want it or not."_

_Merlin chuckled along with Jessica, heartened. He glanced round them, loneliness creeping into him even as he held Jessica's hand. The world should never be like this: dead. He would make sure it never happened._

_"I guess I should reverse this before they start collecting dust," he said after a moment._

_Jessica nodded, cheeks pink. "Promise me you'll see him? Seeing Arthur would do you good." She smirked, green eyes filled with mischief again. "Besides, you two were always sickening co-dependent, and I'm positive Arthur's feeling the loss of you, even without his memories."_

_Jessica was right, of course. Merlin felt Arthur's loss like a constant ache. Though, he wasn't as optimistic as to believe Arthur noticed the lack of his former best friend._

_He'd been putting it off far too long. The end was near, and, if Nimueh was to be believed, he was the cause of it. He didn't believe that, not exactly. But if there was another wizard as powerful as him running around bent on the destruction of the world, it was up to Arthur to stop him, with Merlin's help every step of the way._

_Merlin smiled at Jessica's expectant face. "It would probably be less—" stalker-like "—weird if I didn't meet him head on."_

_"Well," Jessica said at length. "That would certainly be true."_

_"You're going to be there, by the way." Merlin said, raising a brow at Jessica's surprised face. "I'm not doing this by myself. Give me a few days, and I'll call you with the specifics."_

_Jessica leaned back in her chair, watched Merlin warily. "Whatever your master plan is, just remember to think twice about what effect it will have on Arthur, alright?"_

_Merlin laughed. He pushed his chair back, stood. "I've got to protect him from whatever Fate's got planned. There's nothing you can say or do that will stop me from doing that."_

_Even if it cost Merlin his existence._

_"It's not going to end like before," Jessica said, tone resigned as she leaned back in her chair, folding her arms._

_Jessica was more optimistic these days, and Merlin couldn't fault her for it. But she'd never understood the responsibility Merlin had for Arthur and the world._

_Merlin liked to think he could accomplish both goals: help Arthur save the world and make sure Arthur had a happy, stress free life. If he had his way (and he hoped he would), Arthur wouldn't be needed at all._

_But Merlin doubted he'd be able to have his cake and eat it too. Time had never really been on his side._

_The irony wasn't lost on him._

_Merlin shrugged. "This way, I'll make sure it won't." He waved, at Jessica. "Give Daniella and Nick my best," he said, setting time to rights and teleporting back home._


	5. Part 5

**9.**

Corbin hated Merlin.

He hadn't actually met the bloke, mind, but if Corbin heard his name mentioned _one more time—_

"Merlin's really quite wonderful," Emmy tittered in the passenger seat in front of him.

Corbin discreetly banged his head on the car's window.

Emmy droned on, unaware. "I didn't expect him to phone me so soon after we met. He even offered to help me with my telekinesis. How he knew about that, I've no idea, though."

Corbin paused from trying to force his brain out through his eyeballs. He blinked. "Is she serious?" he asked Sean, incredulous. "He knew about her abilities _without_ being told? Are we going to do this again, _really?_"

Corbin had reservations about this whole ordeal, of course. And when Emmy accepted the "sorcerer's" invitation to his home, he thought for sure Sean would agree with him that it was all a very bad idea.

Both Sean and Emmy sighed—well, Sean snorted, actually, but Corbin didn't acknowledge it because hello: gentleman.

"What do you think Emmy's been blathering about for the last two weeks?" Sean asked as he drove through Weybridge—St. Georges's Hill, to be exact. "Get your ears checked, mate."

Merlin didn't live too far away from Emmy and Sean, and how had they all missed a "great wizard" being their next door neighbor, if he was supposed to be so powerful, was beyond him.

Corbin rolled his eyes to the backs of Sean and Emmy's seats. Merlin was probably some has-been celebrity who believed his personal psychic a little too much about a past life. "This Merlin—" what an utterly _ridiculous_ name "—isn't like those idiots from before?" God, he hoped they weren't walking into another trap.

"Jessica and her boyfriend will be there," Sean said slowly, eyes on the winding road before them. "But he's on the up and up, I think."

Corbin started, looked at the back of Sean's head, surprised. That might have well been a golden seal of approval from Sean. Did Sean trust that Merlin fellow so much?

"Is there a pod under your bed?" Corbin asked not unkindly, though he thought it hardly warranted Sean taking his hands off the wheel of the car, reaching back and punching him in the chest.

"No, but he gives me a good feeling," Sean said as he glared at Corbin in the rear-view mirror, as if daring Corbin to jest about him using the dreaded "F" word.

Corbin sighed. _Honestly_, He needed better friends.

He rubbed his chin, took in the wild nature around them as Sean turned down an unmarked road via GPS. Mind, that Merlin bloke couldn't seem to be more arsed to say more than "There are a bit of trees round where the private road is, erm. You can't miss it" when on speaker phone after Sean made a wrong a turn into a cul-de-sac the first two times.

It all seemed suspect, really. Or, Corbin should say: again. He waited on bated breath, sure the Canadian national anthem would to play round them like some specter of old.

But, ultimately Corbin agreed with Sean, against his better judgment and complaining. Overall he had a good feeling (though he would deny it viciously; Smiths didn't _feel_, they _did_) about Jessica and Merlin. That hadn't been the case for Nimueh and Mordred, for obvious reasons. At least Jessica seemed like a normal human being. And for all her mysteriousness, her boyfriend Leon made up for it. As for Merlin, other than a general (begrudging) and inexplicable fondness for the "wizard", Corbin reserved judgment, just in case.

Emmy's brush with Nimueh and Mordred had been far from pleasant and, even if Corbin's early defense system saved them again, it still wasn't alright for them to rely on it. The past run-in taught them all a lesson: He and Sean couldn't protect Emmy from everything, and if she was determined to be less vulnerable, she needed tutors. Jessica, and now Merlin, seemed to be her best chance.

Merlin's home was picturesque, in a way. The grounds were swamped by tall leafy trees, the paved road leading up to the gate shielding them from the sky above. The gate itself was a simple dry stacked stone wall, unusually high for the type it was, nearly Arthur's height times two. There wasn't an actual gate attached the wall, just the stone wall ending on both sides of the paved road leading to the house. But, when they passed through the wall, it felt like they were pushing through a barrier.

At first gander, it seemed Merlin wanted to give the illusion he was in a smaller home. But in actuality, once Sean followed the curve of the road and the trees obscuring the house cleared, it was obviously not the case. The house was built into a large hill, earthen stone walls constructed high on the three storey mansion, scrub bushes placed about almost randomly in the overly large front lawn. In fact, the entire estate, from the overgrown grass and wizened trees, the earthen stone construction of the home, dusk in full swing, and the general lack of care of the grounds, gave off a rather rustic and foreboding first impression.

Could it really be another trap?

The garage was a separate building from the house, five shelters attached together (also: who put their parking garages so far away from their homes? Idiots, Corbin decided) in neat rows diagonal from the home. Sean pulled up to the outbuilding, parked in the garage closest to the wrap around driveway. Beside them a cherry red cabriolet sat, and it was clearly not Merlin's. Corbin knew that, of course, because he had the unfortunate happenstance of knowing the owner of the red convertible.

"Is this what you look like when you're awake?" Jessica said as she knocked on Corbin's window, a smug smile on her face.

Corbin, Sean and Emmy exited the car, and as Emmy and Sean made their hellos, Corbin scowled at Jessica. Without fail, Jessica made the same joke at every meet up, every time she greeted him, like she hadn't already squeezed every bit of humor out of it—

"Ha!" Sean laughed, pointing a finger at Corbin's face. "Look at his _cheeks_. He's _still_ angry about it. You'd think being a big girl's blouse he'd be over it. But," Sean shrugged and nodded, as if he were bestowing great knowledge, the blighter. "Can't help himself, really."

"Sod off the both of you," Corbin muttered as he side-stepped Jessica and went round the back of the car, where Leon stood a bit away, looking generally unobtrusive, generic and pleasant as ever.

"Oh, that Merlin thinks he's toff, does he?" Sean said, looking at the grounds, brow raised, snooty.

Corbin sighed. "Sean, you and Emmy live _ten minutes away_," he said as they left the garages. "Pot meet kettle, alright?"

Sean's face scrunched up, indignant, his finger already waving in Corbin's direction. "I'll have you know—" he frowned, lowered his finger. "Oh, right."

"Hello guys," Leon greeted Corbin, eyes including Sean and Emmy. "Thought you'd all be inside already; Nick said you were keen on meeting Merlin."

"We would've been if we hadn't got lost," Emmy said, giving Sean a look beside her.

"It's probably not all Sean's fault," Jessica said as she locked her car and walked up to where they'd all congregated a few feet away from the cars. "Merlin makes it a habit of being vague, so it's hard to pin him down on specifics."

"Is that so?" Corbin said, raising his brows at Jessica. "Do you know him well?"

Leon laughed and shook his head at Corbin. "You've no idea, yet."

Corbin frowned at Leon, the energy in his chest swarming like locusts, agitated and…uncertain. "What do you—"

"Merlin and I love each other to bits," Jessica answered, slowly, sounding for all her warm words, cautious. "But we have a sordid history." She gave Corbin a body-check, smirking. "How's your chest feeling?"

Corbin placed a palm over his chest out of habit, squinted at Jessica. "It's—I _knew_ you were lying. I—"

"I'm not lying," Jessica said, gave Corbin her back and started walking the long trek from the garages to the main house. "I don't know what's inside you—I'm the last person Merlin would explain anything to. Well," Jessica shrugged. "The second last. He…tolerates me."

"I can't imagine Merlin hating anyone," Emmy said as she jogged a bit to catch up with Jessica, Sean and Leon close behind her.

Corbin's chest pulsed, the energy's warmth expanding to all his appendages, the heat of it almost painful. He didn't rush to catch up with the group's fast pace, instead, he trailed behind, the energy inside him making it difficult to walk—like it was trying to stop him. "You'd be surprised," he said, mouth working of its own accord. "If you push him hard enough, Merlin is capable of murder."

Corbin's face heated like a kettle. He looked up the path to the others, found them stopped dead ahead, all staring at him.

Where the hell had that come from?

"I—" Corbin swallowed, cleared his throat. "Just—"

"Come," Jessica said, old and solemn, her eyes heavy on him—more so than the others. "He's been waiting for you."

"Okay," was all Corbin could think to say. The energy felt alive and confused, like it didn't know if it wanted to lash out and destroy everything around him, or destroy Corbin himself. "Alright."

Corbin shook himself into action, kept his eyes to the ground as he moved his legs, ashamed of the statement he'd made. Since they'd arrived, dusk had given sway to night as they walked to Merlin's door. Globes, the size of larges fists like the kind he saw in a gypsy's tent once, lined the driveway, their blue light guiding them to their destination.

Still behind the rest, Corbin neared one of the globes, taking in the cold fact that they weren't suspended in the air by anything. _Nothing_. He lifted his hand, reached for the globe—

The energy snapped like a rubber band, giving Corbin a shock from the inside out. He pulled his hand back, both confused and scared—just like the energy within. He caught up with the group, hand rubbing absently at his chest.

For all their magical capabilities, Emmy and Jessica (Corbin never saw Jessica do anything, but she had to have _some_ magic if she knew Merlin) didn't appear to be affected, though  
Jessica glanced back at him constantly, an odd smile on her face.

They continued the walk in silence, the atmosphere heavy with some charged force Corbin was positive only he felt. The force wrapped itself around him, cloying, humid and scentless, but it felt solid—a weaker version of the barrier at Merlin's gate.

The early defense system burst from Corbin's chest, and for the first time, he had no problem seeing it. It was gold and bright like the sun, both blinding and not, as if only he was safe from its light and heat. It was as thick as a climbing rope, shaping itself into a shield, deflecting the invisible force around Corbin with a fierceness that rivaled what it did with Nimueh and Mordred.

Slowly, the force Corbin's energy was attacking became visible. It was the same color gold as the power inside him.

Corbin patted his ribcage, felt himself going mad as he tried to feel the energy, but it was just out of his grasp, like he was trying to climb a (hot, molten) wire with sweat slicked hands.

Corbin's energy dodged an attack from the sleepy force encroaching on him, tugging him farther down the path, _onward, closer_, as if the answer was at the very place the energy wanted to escape from.

Not a dozen more steps forward, Corbin staggered, the atmosphere thickening around him further, like a sauna. Distantly, he knew he was sweating, but his vision blurred, his equilibrium pulling to the left and right. Corbin gasped for air, his body falling _down, down_. The air was suffocating and hot as spots appeared in his line of sight—no, not spots, _words_, more _words_.

Characters Corbin recognized: Latin, French, Russian, Norse sigils he'd seen on a program somewhere. The words were written in fire, floated around him. He lifted his hand to his face—yes, there were words like the ones written in the air embedded into his skin, glowing like embers.

The words spoke; whispered to Corbin, hissed with strength and power. The words spoke in many tongues, both emboldening him and tearing him apart.

Corbin's heart pounded quick and hard, the skin around it sore with its strength of rhythm. The whispered words quickened, more languages joining in, making his ears ring. His breath hitched of its own accord, body fighting against an onslaught of power, _magic_, something it had no chance against.

Corbin's vision faded in and out, gave him just enough knowledge to know pandemonium ensued in the darkness around him. He was dying, he could tell. His body couldn't take much more of this before—

"Hello."

Silence.

Corbin sighed, the pain leaving his body on the exhale, the atmosphere around him cool and clear, spacious.

"It's been a while," the voice said, amusement and regret dueling for dominance in the tone.

The world faded to nothing but the man in from of him, the sound of his voice.

Corbin opened his eyes. The man knelt in from of him, looking comfortable with Emmy, Leon and Sean crowded behind him, their faces various levels of anxiousness. He was on the pavement, dew soaking the back of his jacket and trousers as he rested flat on his back. Only Jessica kept her distance, standing behind the kneeling bodies, her eyes steady on Corbin, a smug smile in place.

"Oh," Corbin said, tried to his best to sound so relieved. "You're Merlin."

The wizard's—Merlin's—pale blue eyes twinkled as he huffed a laugh, a knowing smirk working his lips. "Yeah, and you're knackered."

Merlin's hands gripped Corbin's face, the wizard lost a bit of his humor as he searched Corbin's face, his eyes growing distant and somber. Corbin felt a gentle pressure against the back of his head, there one moment and gone the next.

Merlin nodded, the amusement returned to his face. He smiled at Corbin, tilting his head. "Sleep, Corbin. You'll be fine."

Corbin closed his eyes, feeling weightless. Merlin faded as the world went dark, a wave of exhaustion overtaking him completely.

**10.**

"Well, that was all rather unnecessary," Jessica said behind Merlin. "Why didn't you end the protection earlier?"

Merlin stood, ignored Emmy, Sean and the sleeping Corbin (and Leon, _Christ_; what was Jessica _thinking?_) looked at Jessica. "Do you ever remember a time when I wasn't careful with him?"

"Quite a few, actually," Jessica returned, chin lifted. "But then again, that was during a time you _didn't remember_, so it's forgivable."

Merlin narrowed his eyes. "I suppose," he said, tilting his head. "I can see your point."

"That's all I've ever wanted," Jessica said, a soft smile bleeding onto her face.

"I'm all for family reunions and all that," Sean said, coming to stand between Merlin and Jessica, blocking their view of each other. "But _what the hell is going on?_"

"Is Corbin going to be alright?" Emmy asked as she crouched beside Corbin's side, her hand wrapped tight around his.

Merlin shifted around Sean and waved his hand in Sean and Emmy's general direction. "What's this all about?" he asked Jessica, incredulous. "Was it some sort of game for you?"

"None of this is a game," Jessica approached him, affronted, Leon a strong and silent presence behind her. "How _dare_ you—"

"I noticed everyone has a different name; even _you_," Merlin cut in, gave her no quarter; never could with Jessica. Give her an inch and hell, Jessica wouldn't just take a mile, she'd take _centuries_. He pointed at Leon, didn't bother hiding his disgust. "Yet, here he is. Bloody _Leon_."

Jessica stiffened, and, as if sensing her discomfort, Leon put his large hands on Jessica's thin shoulders.

Really, the whole thing was sickening.

"Leon is a very lovely name," Jessica said primly, chin lifted higher than before, bold and unashamed.

Merlin threw up his hands. "_Jessica—_"

"I've some making up to do as well, Merlin." Jessica stepped from Leon's arms, got right into Merlin's face. "If you hadn't avoided _everything_, you'd have known what was happening.

"You decided to sacrifice what could have been to serve Arthur," she continued, incensed. "I'm tired of _being alone_, Merlin, and I won't feel guilty about my choice. This is our last go, and I _will_ be happy with Leon." Jessica turned from him and into Leon's arms, tears glistening in the moonlight.

Oh _hell_. Merlin sighed. "Jessica, I'm—"

"As for Emmy and Sean," Leon, of all people said, his regard cold as he picked up where Jessica left off, head resting atop Jessica's. "Did you think you were the only one who noticed Corbin's loneliness before?"

Merlin blinked. _What the hell? "We?_ What do you mean, _we?_" he said, pissed all over again. "You're not a part of this, you shouldn't _be_ here—"

"You were right, before," Leon said, voice soft, eyes honest and…full of pity, Merlin realized. "I waited a long time. But you know what?"

"What?" Merlin whispered, wary, sure he knew what came next.

Leon smiled. "I regret nothing."

"Wait a minute," Sean stood up to Merlin, his eyes large as he pointed a hesitant finger at Merlin. "_You're_ the one who gave Corbin the Magical Hand of Doom?"

Merlin paused. Opened his mouth; closed it again. "Pardon?" he said, eventually.

"You know," Sean flailed his right hand about making—Merlin guessed—smacking gestures. "The hand that throws things about whenever we're in a tight situation. Nice one!" Sean grinned, patting Merlin heartily on the left arm.

Merlin brought his hands to his face, took a breath. "Okay," he dropped his hands, squinted at Sean. He'd forgotten the daft faze Will went through. It was a very confusing time. "What _are_ you blathering on about?"

"The magic?" Emmy interrupted, placing a tentative hand on Corbin's chest as the former king slept unaware. "Was it you who put it inside him? We've been wondering for ages who made it."

"Yeah," Merlin uttered gently, eyes drifting to Corbin's peaceful form. He looked exactly the same, if a little younger than when Merlin first met him. "It was me. He needed protecting, your Corbin."

"He was your Arthur first," Jessica said next to Merlin, as if she'd always been there, her hand warm on his shoulder. "You've been waiting for _your_ Arthur, Merlin, no matter what his name is now. He's happy, generally speaking. Don't you think you deserve the same?"

Merlin scoffed, pulled his arm from Jessica's grasp. "It's not about me."

Jessica frowned. "Merlin, you can make him happier—"

"I'm the one who made his life miserable in the first place," Merlin hissed, felt the southern-most part the wall surrounding the grounds crumble under his anger. "So _no_, I don't think I can make him happy."

Merlin would serve Corbin, no matter his name, but make him happy? Things were already complicated enough. The only chance Corbin had of having continued happiness was for Merlin to stay out of his life.

"He's been waiting," Emmy entreated, eyes large and wet as she stared down at Corbin. She looked up at Merlin, bottom lip trembling. "For you. Are you going to deny him?"

"Yes," Merlin didn't have to think about it. "Because he can't possibly be happy with me in his life, and live."

It was as simple as that.

* * *

There was an owl perched next to his head.

Corbin jerked away, confused by his surroundings: the unfamiliar bedroom; so large, he couldn't see the walls; the duvet atop him, the darkness and complete silence of the room. _The massive owl staring at him._

It had moved to the right side of the extra large bed when Corbin hadn't been looking. Well,  
as far as he knew. For all the world, the owl could have teleported to the other side of the bed right in front of him.

The owl continued to stare; its talons ripped the pillow closest to his head to shreds as Corbin watched.

So. It was going to be one of those nights, then?

"Your eyes are as big as Merlin's ears," the owl said in a rich, clipped alto as it blinked at Corbin with swirling golden eyes.

Yes. Yes, it was going to be one of _those_ nights.

"Pardon?" Corbin replied weakly, returning the owl's blinks with a few of his own.

"The owl scoffed—_scoffed_. "Oh, I _knew_ Merlin had talked you up. You're thick, aren't you? He always gets addle-brained with pretty blondes—"

"Archimedes," came an exasperated voice from the darkness. "Would it kill you to stay in your cage for fifteen minutes?"

Merlin stepped out of the darkness like a ghost sent to scare Corbin, stared at him as hard  
as the owl—Archimedes—had. Abstractly, Corbin hoped Merlin picked up the creeper staring (and _laying in wait_ in the bleeding dark) from the owl, and not the other way round.

Nonetheless, something in Corbin's chest loosened, and he sat up swiftly, scooted backward until his back hit the dark headboard. "Hi," he said, blushing and inwardly groaning at his eagerness. _Christ_. He was sixteen, yes, but he wasn't a _girl_.

Merlin watched him a moment more, head tilted like…like, well, his _owl_, actually, his brow furrowed. "Right," he said and glided to the side of the bed, near Archimedes.

Soft light erupted into the room and covered most of the bed while Merlin shooed Archimedes, a small harassed sound escaped Merlin's lips as the owl fluttered its wings, muttering grandiose swear words under its breath. "How are you feeling?" he asked as he sat down on the edge of the bed, his torso turned to Corbin, his legs half off the bed.

Corbin shifted on the bed as Merlin seemed to try his level best not to stare at him. "Well, um, better. I'm not burning up and the dizziness is gone," he said, not paying a whit of attention to what he was saying. Merlin's face was doing odd things, like the staring, like he was shocked Corbin was there. That, and he looked like he was torn between doing a runner and attacking Corbin with hugs. Corbin scooted a smidgen farther back, wary. "I had a tightening in my chest, like a rope? But it doesn't feel that way anymore—" Corbin clamped his mouth shut, teeth clicking, ducked his head as his face burned hotter than the sun. He was babbling. _Babbling_. He chanced a glance at Merlin, though.

Merlin looked…overwhelmed. His mouth was ajar; both troubled and shocked expressions battling on his face, eyes drifting to the duvet between them. "Erm," he said, making it sound like a question.

Corbin blinked, taxed. _Honestly_, it shouldn't be so hard to have a conversation.

"Do people pass out at your feet often?" Corbin worked his blush down, refused to be embarrassed by a simple question, desperate for the attention to be on to something else.

Though by the look of him, Corbin doubted Merlin spent his attention on much of anything. On closer inspection, Merlin didn't look too much like a _man_; more a fresh from pre-grad uni student. He was at _most_ twenty-two years old, only six or so years older than Corbin. Still old by his standards, mind.

Merlin did have nice hair: blackish brown, long, silky straight and as thick as a curtain, a part down the middle and covering the ears Archimedes (what type of name was that anyway? _Archimedes?_ Well, _Merlin_, was his master's name, so never mind) harangued about, it framing his face and just above his shoulders—when he wasn't shifting his head in a parody of his bird.

His face was all angles—cheekbones and jaw; and gentle slopes—nose, chin, mouth and eyes. All together it made Merlin look vulnerable—and a touch dumb.

"Well, his voice is deep," Archimedes said, tone observant as it hobbled closer to Corbin and stared at his crotch. "Means his balls have dropped, in any case."

"Shut it, Archie," Merlin snapped between clenched teeth. He flushed, looked at Corbin and offered his hand. "Don't mind Archie, he's been going mad since the French Revolution." He smiled. "I'm Merlin Emyrs. Good to meet you, Corbin."

Corbin didn't take Merlin's hand. "Let's make sure I understand you," he said slowly. "Your owl is talking? And I'm not dreaming?"

"He not too bright, is he," Archie remarked as he flew onto Merlin's shoulder and perched there, the owl's bulk looking utterly ridiculous on Merlin's thin shoulder. "See, what did I tell you about blowing things out of proportion? You've a severe case of hero-worship."

Corbin felt his mouth fall open. He could see a trend coming out of this. "_What?_"

"Probably damaged during transport," the owl muttered absently as it peered at Corbin like it was checking for a return-to-sender tag on his face.

It ignored Corbin's sputtering, and was apparently unconcerned by Merlin's reddening face. "It explains the height," the owl said at length.

Alright, this was outrageous. "Damaged?" Corbin snarled. "I'm sixteen, there's plenty of time for another growth spurt—"

"Don't you mean your _first_ growth spurt?"

The _hell?_ "Why, you—"

"Archimedes," Merlin cut in, cold as ice. "Leave."

Corbin returned Archimedes' dark look with a smug one, enjoyed the bird's stroppy exit.

"He's short," Archimedes said just as it glided through the door, its wingspan just short enough to pass though without trouble.

"Ignore him," Merlin said as he rubbed his eyes with his knuckles. "When he's started on one of his criticisms, it's best to let him drown on. But this was your first time meeting him, and I thought you should be spared the brunt of it."

"Right," Corbin drawled as he leaned further against the headboard.

"I—" Merlin shut his mouth, fingers fiddled with the duvet, and stared at Corbin, looking a bit lost.

This was all becoming a bit awkward.

"So," Corbin prompted, forced himself to look at Merlin's face. "Outside."

Merlin flushed again. "Sorry about that. The magic's not meant for us to be in close proximity. It's meant to protect you from everything, even me. As you neared, it tried to kill me, and when it couldn't do that, it tried to –well, if it couldn't protect you, it wouldn't let anyone have you. The ultimate self destruct button."

"Oh," was all Corbin could think to say as he frowned, at a loss for words. The thing he thought of as a gift sounded a whole lot like a time bomb. Why would Merlin go through all the trouble to kill him? "You're here with me now. Is there a chance it'll still kill me?"

Corbin had serious concerns about Merlin's head popping off, if he shook it any harder. "No, not at all. I, erm, disabled it. Not needed anymore, really—at least not for the moment."

"It's not?" If this Merlin person believed that, he was an idiot. Corbin's life was strange, and after being in Merlin's presence for at most an hour, it looked like it would only get stranger. And hell, he knew his chances of a normal, non-magical life were already woefully low. Really, look at his friends.

"No," Merlin said, his smile confident. "I'm here. If I created that for you to fill in my absence, imagine what I can do for you when I'm actually here."

"It was made to protect me," Corbin uttered slowly, searched Merlin's face, afraid to be relieved, afraid to have hope. "It's really you who made this, and you who wants to protect me."

Merlin looked at Corbin dead on, no fidgeting or blushing, all of it drying up like smoke. "Always."

"Okay," Corbin replied. He was flustered by Merlin's abrupt change. He guessed his safety wasn't a kidding matter for Merlin. But _why?_ "I—that's nice, really. But I haven't done anything to deserve this. I'm not important."

Merlin huffed a laugh, stretched out on the bed, folding his right arm behind his head. "Once upon a time, you were the most important person in the world," he smiled at Corbin, the curve of his lips hard-edged. "The world might have forgotten, but I haven't. And they'll remember it again."

"Important—what?" Corbin stared at Merlin, mind trying to catch up with what the wizard said.

"Haven't you ever wondered what was in there?" Merlin shifted against the headboard, reached out and tapped Corbin's chest with his left hand.

"Yes—no," Corbin frowned. "I try not to think about it often. I thought if I did, it would leave. I mean, the thing inside me is yours, isn't it?"

Merlin shook his head. "Mm, part of it is. It's more yours than mine." He paused, eyes twinkling as he looked at Corbin. "Do you want to see it?"

Merlin's hand was already flattened between them, raised to eye level before Corbin finished nodding.

It was a perfect three dimensional image of a Long sword, double edged; about the length of Merlin's palm. It turned in quick circles on its tip, suspended just above the skin of Merlin's hand, catching the gentle light in the shadowed room.

"I have a sword," Corbin paused. "Inside of me."

"It's not a sword, it's _the_ sword," Merlin said, that odd look on his face again, like he wasn't looking at Corbin, but someone else. "You have its spirit, the magic that makes it want to serve and protect you faithfully, inside you." Merlin smiled and his eyes drifted up, the image of the sword winking out of existence as he pointed behind them. "As for the sword Tom made? Look."

Eager, Corbin shifted on the bed until he was on his calves, facing the headboard. Sure enough, set vertically on a cast iron plaque, the sword hung on the wall, just above Merlin's headboard.

It was beautiful.

The sword was a little under a meter long and by the looks of it, just short enough that it would fit nicely in Corbin's grip, the hilt looked made for him; he could almost feel the pinky finger of his left hand brush against the pummel, if he concentrated enough. It was well used, the hilt nearly black, the leather grip worn but sturdy. The blade itself looked sharp, balanced and deadly as it gleamed in the shadows just as its replica had.

It was love at first sight.

Corbin had his hands nearly to the sword before he realized it. He turned to Merlin, heart in his throat. "Can I?"

"You don't have to ask," Merlin chuckled, sounding both sad and relieved. "I was only taking care of it."

Corbin knew he should've paused to absorb what Merlin said, but the thing—the sword's essence put inside him by Merlin—called to its body like a long lost kindred spirit.

Corbin leaned close, balanced his waist against the headboard. His fingers tentative and nervous, he—

The sword jumped off the plaque and into Corbin's hand.

A supernova went off in Corbin's head. His body, his blood—no, his cells; the particles that formed him, blazed like a furnace and he screamed, or tried to: his tongue didn't exist anymore. Nothing existed but the pain.

The pain…and the memories. _Merlin's_ memories.


	6. Part 6

11.__

The sky was a bitter grey, the early morning sun fighting through the clouds, losing, making the sky look alive with fire. The wind howled over the field of Camlann, shrieking between the armor of fallen men and horses, the scent of blood robust and putrid as it consumed the air, the ground, the souls of every soldier and knight still alive.

Merlin registered the earth's cries of despair, but that was all. He clutched Arthur's head in his lap, absorbed every shallow inhale the king made, every grimace of pain, every tremor and blink.

Yes, it was Merlin's fault it was happening like this, but he didn't have to like it.

"Sorry," Arthur stuttered out, pupils blown, blood coating his teeth. "Thought it wouldn't be today."

Merlin could barely see Arthur's face, his own tears blurring his view. "Don't apologize, how could you have known?" There was no point to lie to Arthur now. He wished he'd realized that earlier.

Arthur laughed, or tried to, coughed up gobs of blood instead. His breath puffed faster, his ever sharp blue eyes losing focus. "Forgive me—"

"Nothing to forgive," Merlin blurted, tugged Arthur closer into his lap, shielded the King's face from the raindrops as the sky opened up and shared its lament with water, its rage with thunder and lightning.

Even the earth knew what it was losing, even if it was only for a time. Looking back over the years as Merlin fought against Fate's decree. He hoped against hope that the inevitable wouldn't happen, but deep down he'd known it was a futile effort. Arthur hadn't known, and that, all in itself, was the real tragedy. Merlin grimaced, tossed away the thoughts and the truth they revealed. There would be time for all that later—a lot of time.

"Forgive me," Arthur whispered through hitched breaths, his eyes wide as he seemed to canvas Merlin's face. "I never—we_ never—I should've picked you over all this, wish I'd picked you—"_

Arthur jerked in Merlin's arms, and, King Arthur Pendragon was gone.

"Arthur_," Merlin gripped Arthur's body, fingers getting caught in the King's chainmail. He searched Arthur's face for any signs of life, knew he wouldn't find any. Arthur was gone and locked away for the future of humanity._

At the moment, Merlin couldn't care less for humanity. He lifted his head to the tumultuous sky, joined his roar of loss and regret with the earth itself.

_oOo_

__

Arthur's body wasn't cold when he appeared, no doubt there to gloat. No one had dared approach Merlin while he grieved on the field, Mordred's cooling corpse not ten paces away. Sir Ector and King Hoel had attempted, but even they saw reason when the ground began to shake and sizzle as they drew near.

But of course, Merlin's emotions were never something Fate ever took into account when it was time for him to gloat.

"You did this, Merlin," Fate said, his voice twisted in disgust as he said Merlin's name. "You know better than to strike deals with me. History must stay unchanged, no matter your feelings on it."

"But the future isn't yours," Merlin said, eyes on Arthur's still form. "And there's still the time left that you didn't steal from me."

"Do as you will," Fate said, his graying shoulder length black hair whipping about in the air as the earth continued to rage, his blue-green eyes cool as he regarded Merlin. "I've never been able to control what you do."

"That's the point," Merlin said as he rested Arthur's head on the grass, stood and faced Fate. "You shouldn't have come."

"I can go anyplace I choose," Fate smirked, the frown lines around his mouth deepening.

Merlin clenched his fists. "But you can't do anything you choose," he said, taking a step closer to the entity, felt the last dregs of what they'd once had dissolve between them. "I would have let you go if you stayed away."

Fate narrowed his eyes, his grey robes billowing as he took a step back. "What do you—"

"I wanted to give you a chance to fix this," Merlin said. He took a breath, gathered the energy of the elements, of time, chance, Destiny, the lost souls of the world. "You agreed to my deal—"

"You should know better—"

"Don't say it_," Merlin hissed, the earth trembling underneath them. "I love you—we both do—we shouldn't have to _know_ better. You lied to me and took more than what I bargained; brought Morgana back and tried to get me to kill her. You broke the deal, tried to _destroy_ me while I slept, just for control. Control that isn't yours to keep."_

"Control goes to the victor," Fate said, straightening to his full height, shoulders back and a self-righteous glare on his face. "We are near the end of things, Merlin. The time for fair play is over."

The choice of punishment was easy. Fate loved his true appearance and what it represented, his identity wrapped completely in his true body. It only made sense that as Fate took Merlin's identity—Arthur—from him, Merlin would return the favor.

"It was never a game, Fate. Never," Merlin raised his arms, pulled the clouds from the air and into his hands, the energy of creation jumping to his fingers. "It's over."

Merlin released the energy, the power disintegrating his hands and upper arms with the force of its pull. Power the color of blue flame soared between them, shrouding them both in its energy.

Merlin stared at Fate, let his body burn away as he fused himself in the power and joined it as it entered Fate's body through the regal looking man's howling mouth. Together, they took Fate apart from the inside out.

Existence stopped a moment, held its collective breath.

The job done, Merlin exited Fate's body, released creation's power from his hold, his body shaping itself around the magic like it never left. Merlin expelled his breath. "It's done."

Existence began again.

"When will I get it back?" Fate asked, his body hunched and trembling, voice hoarse.

The damage to Camlann was large. The earth was scorched to ruin, cooked down past the first several layers of soil, whatever bodies of the enemy burned to crisps. Merlin looked farther out, past the circle of burnt earth to the outer regions of the field: parts of the war ground still in flames around them, the rain doing nothing to stop the magic ridden fires.

It fit Merlin's mood.

He looked at Fate, could feel the scarce remnants of power he'd left inside the entity. Just enough power for Fate to do his job, change his appearance as time sped on, trapped. "When Arthur breathes again."

"You should have burned my skin, Magic," Fate said as he struggled to right himself, left arm clutching his torso. "Where ever your king goes, so shall I be, waiting to strike. Mark my words: I will try again."

"I'm not worried," Merlin lied as he glared at Fate, tired. Let it never be said that Fate gave up easily; especially when power and jealousy were in play. Merlin narrowed his eyes. "Leave."

Merlin turned around and knelt by Arthur's body, the ground around the king as pristine as it had been before the battle weeks before. "He won't get his chance," Merlin said as he pushed Arthur's fringe off his forehead, his tears joining the water from the sky. "I'll destroy the world before I let you die again."

"He will live again, Merlin."

"I know," Merlin said to Morgana. He knew she would come; the power he used couldn't be ignored, even by her. He didn't spare Morgana a glance, eyes only for Arthur. "I'll wait for him."

"It will be a long wait," Morgana said, sounding gentle, if not impartial.

Merlin felt her step closer, the power she wielded unknowingly buffeting against his own. "You'll go mad waiting for him."

"Yes, but only for a while," Merlin bit out, snot and tears sticking in his eyes and beard. He knew he would be mad before dawn the next day, but really, he welcomed it. It would be a reprieve from the grief. "I'll wait an eternity if I have to."

If only he'd been there, had just one moment, this wouldn't have happened. He wouldn't have been too late. As it was, Merlin was just as trapped as Fate. For all the power he wielded over life and death, the Pendragon line was the only bloodline he couldn't bring back to life.

"You're in a dangerous place, Merlin," Morgana said, kneeling soundlessly on the other side of Arthur's body. She was dressed in her usual garb: black velvet robe, the hood obscuring her face. To Merlin, all she was missing was a scythe, and she'd be the embodiment of the beauty of death. She'd certainly helped Mordred bring it to Arthur's door.

"How would you know?" he hissed, felt his eyes glow. "I have no interest in talking to you when you're like this."

"I—" Morgana blinked, the edges of her full mouth turned down prettily. "Merlin, what are you?"

"The question is, Morgana," he said, licking his lips, "what are you?"

Morgana blanched, turned transparently pale under the cold and wet clouds. "I don't—"

"Have you thought about why you felt the need to come see me after being beside him—" Merlin pointed at Mordred's remains, now nothing more than charred bones "—when he and Arthur dealt their final blows? Or how you know the future? Or—" Merlin clamped his lips down and reigned himself in. The last thing he needed was to let his grief and rage cock things up more. He took a breath, looked at Morgana as she was now, accepted that she would be utterly clueless about things until the time came, just like all of them.

"I love you, Morgana," Merlin continued, cold, dead, "always. But leave me, before I do something we both regret."

Morgana left without another word. Merlin sighed and looked at the furious sky, feeling his sanity already break loose.

"This wait," he said to the earth, to the universe and all the secrets it held, weary, depressed, /ibroken_, "is only the beginning."_

oOo

"Corbin! Cor—hey."

Merlin's face was centimeters from Arthur's, eyes concerned and impossibly blue. Oh God. _Merlin_.

"_Ugh_, call me Arthur," he croaked, throat sore and blood slicked. His skin felt like it lost a fight against a grater, his brain like mash. "_Ugh_."

For whatever reason, seeing—no, experiencing—Merlin's memories returned Arthur's own. He wasn't overly surprised by it. They lived in each other's pockets the first time round, so close they mostly talked for the benefit of others. Arthur's Round Table had many seats. He'd been friend to all, confidante to none. But Merlin…Merlin had been there, and he made Arthur's isolation bearable.

Finally, the loneliness was gone. Merlin was back.

"A warning would have been nice," Arthur grumbled to the ceiling. He noticed, belatedly, he was flat on his back, legs folded under him painfully, head toward the foot of the bed. "You let me walk right into that."

Merlin blinked at him, got the spacey look he always got when he was thinking hard, head lifted as he focused on some unknown point in the room. Merlin shifted away from Arthur almost absently, as if he'd never been nearly sprawled atop Arthur in the first place.

Arthur smiled as Merlin folded his legs Indian-style, his heart quickening a bit as he watched Merlin think, even as his own body screamed to be set to rights. "Forgot when you made the spell, did you?"

Merlin started, looked at Arthur as if he'd forgotten he was there. "I didn't know it was going to do that," he said as he wrapped his hands over Arthur's grip on Excalibur. Merlin tugged, glared at Arthur until he gave Merlin the sword—eventually, and watched, wistful, as it floated back to the plaque, safe and sound. "That wasn't me," Merlin said slow and confused.

Arthur sat up on his elbows, closed his eyes as the world started to disco dance. "Who was it?" he said, clearing his throat a time or twelve.

Arthur felt a finger—Merlin's finger—touch his temple; His raw throat, sensitive skin and dizziness evaporated. He opened his eyes, found Merlin close, the dreamy look fading from the wizard's face as he watched.

Merlin's face darkened with some kind of understanding. Arthur sat up, shifting until he was sitting crossed legged on the bed and mirroring Merlin, their knees touching.

"Hey," Arthur said as he laid a hand on Merlin's shoulder. "If it wasn't you," he repeated gently, "who was it?"

Merlin looked at him, his breath coming out in spurts. _Uh-oh_, that was _never_ good. "Our sister, I think."

Arthur frowned. "Our—" he got out, but Merlin was already gone; teleported to only God knew where.

Arthur looked at the ceiling and sighed. "Honestly, _this_ is what I came back for?"

12.

"_How_ did you—" Merlin shouted as he popped into the kitchen, glared at Jessica. "_When_ did you—you had _no_ right!"

Sean and Emmy jumped about a meter in the air, surprised by his sudden teleportation. He ignored them. If they were going to be around him, they were going to have to get used to sudden appearances.

Jessica sighed and leaned against the counter, her shoulder grazing the fridge. "You know I have every right," she said, voice like stone, eyes like fire. "Look me in the face and tell me you were really planning to give him his memories. _Tell me_."

Merlin glared at Jessica, his anger building, growing, expanding. In his peripheral, Emmy shivered and stepped closer to Sean, the room growing cold.

Merlin clenched his jaw and looked at the floor; the room returned back to its normal temperature. "I can't."

"I know," Jessica whispered as she walked over and rubbed his shoulders. "It's really for the best."

"He'll have so many questions. We've told so many lies," he said as he watched Jessica's reaction. She didn't look upset. "I'm not ready for this—"

"How long have you waited for him?" Jessica glared at him, but it lacked heat. "If you waited much longer, you'd be out of time. And as your sister—"

"Little sister," Merlin interjected, a smile growing on his face against his will.

"_Sister_," Jessica emphasized with another glare, "I've got to look out for you."

Merlin shook his head, exasperated. "That's not how it works. I look after _you_."

"When will you get it through your thick head?" Jessica said, squeezing Merlin's arms. "We're in this together."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "I—"

"How do you mean _our_ sister?"

Arthur.

Merlin watched Jessica freeze, her eyes as wide as saucers. He glanced at Sean and Emmy, amused by their gob smacked faces. Merlin snorted. It figured Jessica would restore Arthur's memories, have Sean and Emmy in the room, and leave all the squaring away to him.

Merlin sighed. Really, he should have expected this.

"It's complicated," Merlin said to Arthur, eyes on Jessica's anxious face.

He could hear Arthur saunter over to them, the arrogance and privilege he had as King back like it never left.

Merlin smiled. It was good to have Arthur back.

"Right. _Complicated_," Arthur said as he stood beside Merlin and Jessica, folding his arms over his chest. He sighed—loud. "Isn't it always with you? Can you at least tell me how Mor—" he glanced at Sean and Emmy, cleared his throat. "Jessica managed all this?"

Merlin searched Jessica's very blank face, his stomach bottoming out. "Yes, how did you?"

Jessica didn't look anywhere else, her voice didn't wobble. "I had help."

Merlin scowled; the light bulbs in the kitchen shattered, sparks and dust floated in the air.

"Leon," Sean bellowed eyes large abd scared as he grabbed Emmy's hand and launched out of the kitchen.

Jessica's eyes flicked to the sparks and dust, settled back on Merlin. "He wants to talk."

"Breathe," Arthur said as he stepped into Merlin's personal space, nudging Jessica out of the way, his hands hard on Merlin's shoulders. "_Breathe_."

Merlin listened to Arthur and breathed, the foundation of the house trembling.

The kitchen door flew open; Archimedes and Leon came into the room as if flying on a gale.

Leon was at Jessica's back in an instant, eyeing Merlin warily while he rubbed Jessica's shoulders. "What's going on?" he asked, eyes trained on Merlin over Arthur's head.

Arthur released Merlin's left shoulder in time for Archie to land on it. Archie's talons dug into his skin, grounding him. "Don't do anything you'll regret," the owl intoned.

Merlin watched as Arthur's gaze drifted up to Archimedes, dropped back to Merlin's as he nodded, looking surprised. "Archimedes is right. Or else you've got me to answer to."

Merlin zeroed in on Arthur's face, remembering the contours of it, marveling in how Arthur could be a blank slate to the rest of the world, yet give everything he was thinking away with just one look to Merlin.

They hadn't gotten the chance to enjoy each other, he and Arthur. To revel in the moment of Arthur's memories returning, to catch up and enjoy each other's company. And if Merlin wasn't careful, they never would.

Maybe they shouldn't.

Merlin closed his eyes and breathed through his mouth; the house's trembling stopped, the light bulbs replaced themselves. He opened his eyes and looked at Arthur, his eyes drifting to the right.

Arthur rolled his eyes and with a not so quiet sigh, moved to Merlin's right side.

Merlin glared at Jessica. "_What_."

"It's not what you think—"

"It's _always_ what I think," Merlin snarled, dislodging Archie off his shoulder. "You _said_ you wouldn't join him. You _said_ you'd never do it again."

"I'm not against you," Jessica cried as she closed the distance between them and gripped Merlin's face. He tried to get free, but Jessica held firm. "You're my family, _both_ of you. When this world is gone and to dust, there will only be us. The Three." She kissed the side of Merlin's mouth, smelling of grass and lavender. "If this fight continues between you two, what Nimueh said _will_ come true. Don't let it happen, Merlin. I don't want to be alone."

"Never," Merlin said as he pulled Jessica into a tight hug, arms circling her waist. "That will never happen."

"Don't lie," she said against Merlin's ear, wrapping her hands tight around the nape of his neck. "Why else have you been avoiding all of this? As soon as Arthur's memories returned, it meant you'd be forced to act. You think I don't know your plan?" Jessica pulled back some, gave Merlin a hard look. "You plan to kill him. But we all know the guilt would destroy you."

Merlin flinched, released Jessica somewhat reluctantly. "The guilt would be worth it."

Jessica's mouth fell open. "Do you hear yourself? Who are you? Merlin, you took his powers."

"And nearly powerless, he's done _plenty_," Merlin said as he fumed, the ramifications of the subtle things Fate had done coming to mind. "This is why I didn't want Arthur's memories to return. It places Arthur's life in danger again, and our brother will know Arthur remembers, and worse yet, I'm an active part of Arthur's life." Merlin hunched his shoulders, frowned. "Besides, what I did to him was allowed, and within my rights. His abilities were returned on Arthur's first breath."

"Not everything Fate is up to is a game," Jessica said, her sigh heavy. "Maybe he's trying to move on, perform his duties."

"I swear, it's like you've never _met_ him," Merlin replied, trying his best to keep his anger out of his voice. But that was a waste of time. Jessica knew him all too well and for too long to be fooled by fruitless attempts of reigning in his anger. This was one of Merlin's buttons, Jessica's ability to give Fate chances time and again, and refusing to see him as Merlin did: a cold hearted, greedy megalomaniac. Jessica knew it, yet she still tried to get him to see Fate differently. "He doesn't know how to perform his duties because he wants _mine_. And he won't stop until he has my powers, and has destroyed everything and everyone I love. I can't let him do that and you _know_ it."

"But if you do this, you'll accomplish the very thing you're sure he's set out to do." Jessica moved back and leaned into Leon's waiting arms. "I know we're your responsibility, but if you continue down this path… It will be more than you and him who will be destroyed."

Merlin watched Jessica, ignored Arthur's and Archimedes' weighty gazes. "What path do you think I'm on? Do you _really_ think I'd destroy the world?"

Jessica bit her lip, eyes shuddered. "I think you've been avoiding everything because you knew you'd have to either sacrifice Arthur, or the world. I think you're on the path Nimueh predicted. I think you need to let go, and—"

"And what?" Merlin hissed, the anger bursting out of him like a volcano. "Let _him_ have his way?"

"No," Jessica replied, calm and collected, her eyes filled with tears. "Let Arthur _be_. Let him live his life. If you focus on him having this perfect life you've got in your head for him, he'll never fulfill his destiny."

"Destiny?" Merlin's spine tingled, fear encroaching on his anger. "Really."

"On this path," Jessica continued softly, Leon's arms tightening around her, "he'll never reach it because you'll have already destroyed the very thing he was meant to save: the earth."

"But," Merlin yanked at his hair, paced the kitchen. "He owes me for his—" he pointed at Arthur's carefully blank face. "—death. And that's unforgivable. If he tries again, _as he said he will_, then I've got to stop him for good."

"If you kill Fate, you know it will throw off the balance," Jessica glared at him, gold swirling in her eyes. "We were never meant to run things as just two. There won't be _anything left_."

"I'm as glad as the next bloke that you two are talking again," Arthur said, face no longer blank but fierce, eyes hot. "_But what the devil is going on?_"

Jessica, the traitor, turned her back on Merlin, and hugged Leon, leaving the explaining to him.

"Erm," he began, aware of Arthur's baleful glare, Archie's snicker from the top of the fridge. "You've heard of the Three Fates, right?"

Arthur blinked at him. He glared, then he rubbed his eyes, sighed so loud Merlin thought he  
would bring the estate down around their ears. "Typical," Arthur muttered. "Bloody typical."

"Sorry?" Merlin offered with a shrug.

"Sorry? That's all you've got to say?" Arthur repeated as he glowered at Merlin, his mind still trying to process what Merlin was saying, even in his shock. "What are you, one of the three fates?"

"The Three, actually," Merlin mumbled, looking at him askance, like he was scared of Arthur's reaction. Well, he should be. "Fate's not mine or Jessica's true names, but we didn't nip it in the bud when Fate started throwing his name about."

"It's true," Morgana—Jessica now, Arthur reminded himself—said as she turned in Leon's arms and looked at Arthur. "Our brother's a bit self involved."

"He's a pretentious arse, more like," Merlin said darkly, as judgmental as ever.

Arthur bit back a smile and reminded himself why he was angry with his wizard—um, _entity_. "Pardon?"

"Magic, Fate, and Destiny," Jessica said, ticking off each word on her fingers. "In that precise order-though, Fate could be considered the oldest of us, but not the strongest."

"In myth, it's believed we work simultaneously and together," Merlin said, glancing at Arthur and back to Jessica. "And we can, if forced. But in actuality, we can barely stand each other."

"We take turns," Jessica took over, eyes locked with Merlin's, oddly, "to give everyone a chance to have their time to rule; One of us sleeps, one of us rules, and Magic watches over us. Sometimes Magic takes control of an era of humanity when the world cries for it—Magic has ruled since the birth of Arthur until now—but," Jessica frowned, looking as bewildered as Arthur had ever seen her, "because of circumstances, Fate took over Magic's reign for around five hundred years, and Magic only regained control a few years before your death."

"Let me guess," Arthur said as he tilted his head at Merlin. "You're Magic, yeah?"

"I—" Merlin swallowed, nodded. "Yeah."

"We've never all been awake at the same time before," Jessica continued as she looked between Arthur and Merlin, brow raised. "It's always stayed the same: One sleeps, one rules, Magic watches."

"So, Magic—Merlin—" Arthur inclined his head at Merlin's twitching face, ignored the anger. "Watches over Destiny and Fate? He doesn't rule regularly?"

"There's really not a need for me to," Merlin mumbled, shifting on his feet beside Arthur. "Unless there's you," Merlin looked at him. "Since you've been born—both times—I've needed to make sure you fulfilled your destiny. You're important."

Arthur looked at his feet, at the wall, at _anything_ to avoid Merlin's earnest face. There wasn't a real reason—even the first time—for him to be so important. Doing what was honorable had nothing to do with importance. "Why is this time different from the rest? Why is Fate so angry?"

"We made a deal," Merlin said, fury coloring his voice as he eyed Jessica. "I fulfilled my end of the bargain, Fate didn't. He used the agreement to teach me a lesson he thought I should learn, as well as try to get rid of both myself and Jessica—for power."

"You see," Jessica said, eyes to the ground, "this is our last go. We—The Three—are no longer needed."

"What?" Arthur said, his heart missing a beat.

"There was a need, we filled it," Merlin said, giving Arthur a strange look. "We were never meant to be forever."

"We're leaving soon," Jessica said, tone wistful as she leaned against Leon's chest. He didn't look overly surprised by the revelation. In fact, Leon looked resigned.

"Humanity doesn't need us or our help anymore," she continued, eyeing Merlin and Arthur both, a strange look in her eyes he couldn't fathom. Jessica looked so old then, and almost relieved.

"It needs you."

Arthur turned to the fond voice; found Merlin.

Merlin smiled at him. "The world needs you, finally."

Once and future King, like in the literature books; like the legend.

"Oh," Arthur said, overwhelmed. He couldn't really think of anything else to say against Merlin's fond, proud face. He hadn't _done_ anything, not yet. But Merlin being Merlin, already had undying confidence in him.

Arthur turned away from Merlin's smile, his stomach doing cartwheels. "I thought Fate and Destiny were the same thing," Arthur said, directing his question to Jessica.

"Fate is implacable, unchanging. Fate is what happened to you and the Pendragon line," Merlin said, ignoring the pointed glare Arthur sent him—he hadn't asked Merlin. But, old habits—in this case, Merlin's unasked for interruptions—died hard.

"Destiny," Jessica said with a small smile as she looked at Merlin, "is decided on the head of a pin. I'm more about the choices leading you to your destination, where as our brother Fate believes he should be the one who decides the future."

"And I'm here to keep Fate and Destiny in order," Merlin said, hitching his shoulders. " As well as protect humanity against them if they cock it up, _and_ give humanity a breather from Destiny and Fate on occasion."

"All that responsibility," Arthur mused, raising a brow at Merlin. "Yet you couldn't do your daily chores."

"I was meant for more than doing your washing," Merlin snapped back, eyes twinkling. "Completely above the station as manservant—not that I knew it then."

"So, you're Destiny?"

Arthur turned to the door. Sean and Emmy were holding hands, Emmy's lower lip trembling as she looked at Jessica.

"Yes," Jessica said quietly, hesitantly as she regarded Emmy and Sean. She smiled, waving the duo further into the room. "I'm Destiny and Merlin is Magic. We're two-thirds of The Three."

"Jesus," Sean said as he led Emmy into the kitchen, staring at Arthur until he felt a flush on his face. "And you're Arthur, not Corbin, right?" Sean said, his stare intensifying.

Arthur cleared his throat, raised his chin. "Yeah, I'm Arthur. But you can call me Cor—"

"Arthur will do," Sean said, his voice strange and distant, _formal_, as he turned away from him and to Emmy. Emmy, who had tears coming down her face.

"I…" Arthur felt gutted, broken, like his returning to life had destroyed what little happiness he—Corbin, had in _his_ life. Was this what remembering felt like? Losing the persona that made up Corbin's existence, feeling like a stranger in his own body? Why did he have all his memories—older, mature feelings, yet such a young body?

And above else, there was Merlin, right next to him, so close. All he had to do was reach out and touch—

Arthur grimaced, took a step away from Merlin, from his own lack of inhibitions. No, if he was brought back now, it meant there wasn't a chance to get what he wanted. Right now, the world mattered more than any of his undisclosed desires.

But things were different now, weren't they? And whether it was for the best or not, he and Merlin weren't _exactly_ the same as they used to be. Arthur knew he certainly wasn't, not after the life he'd led the last sixteen years.

_Hm_. Arthur looked at Merlin, his mind whirling in pleasant circles. _There were possibilities._

But, there were problems. Gaping errors and unanswered questions between his best friend and himself. All was not well between them, undisclosed desires or not.

"Was that what you meant?" Arthur said as he turned to Merlin, watched him closely. "When you came back from Hunith's and said you remembered who you were? When you killed my father?"

Merlin's eyes searched the room, teeth chewing on his bottom lip. "What I told you then, I meant—"

"You said you loved him," Arthur cut in, anger a slow build in his empty chest. If this was how it was going to be, he didn't want to remember. What was the point of it all? "But you remembered then, didn't you? You killed him, knowing who you are. You could have changed things for _him_—"

"Once, you asked me if I hated your father," Merlin said as he looked at Arthur through his eyelashes, voice calm, old. Dead.

"I remember," Arthur whispered, and clamped his mouth shut, bewildered, scared, _hurt_.

Merlin didn't say anything, not immediately. His wizard looked at the floor, then behind Arthur, his eyes blank as he walked passed him and to the table on the far end of the kitchen.

Arthur followed him wordlessly, Jessica, Leon, Emmy and Sean following close behind. He was surprised he wasn't jumping down Merlin's throat for explanations. But not _too_ surprised, he realized. The complete despair and hopelessness on Merlin's face was something he hadn't seen often. He hoped to never see it on Merlin's face again, and he certainly didn't want to be the cause of it.

The table was an exact replica of the original Round Table, trimmed down in size, though Arthur could see the original fitting in Merlin's ridiculously large kitchen, too. There were four chairs at the table, and they all sat, Leon included. Jessica sat directly across from Arthur, on Leon's lap, her arms draped around Leon's neck; Emmy and Sean on her right, Emmy mirroring Jessica almost identically, while Merlin took the one across from Emmy and Sean on Arthur's right.

"I remember," Arthur said again as he looked at Merlin. And he did, clearly, too. He'd wanted to focus on the Coronation that day, but it had been impossible. All he could think about was the path to his Kingship, and Merlin's part in it.

At the time, Arthur hadn't thought he could move forward until he spoke with Merlin. Not that he would have turned down his rightful place, mind. He'd wanted his best friend back, and until they could clear the air properly, there would be a rift between them. And without Merlin, Arthur knew he'd accomplish nothing as King. Merlin was his rock, but in order for them to return to even ground, he'd needed to know Merlin's true feelings about Uther.

Yes, he'd chosen to save Merlin's life (though it all seemed pointless now) because of honor, honesty, and…_and_, because Merlin dying was never going to be an option, _never_. He valued Merlin's friendship and life above almost anything and anyone.

That had been a hard truth to swallow, one Arthur fought with for the rest of his first life. _Merlin or the kingdom_. The option to have both was never something he thought about, because in the end, someone would lose. And it wouldn't have been the kingdom, or Merlin.

It would've been Arthur.

But, things changed when you died.

"Right," Merlin nodded at the table, twisting his fingers together on the surface. "And I said I wasn't capable of hating him." Merlin flicked his eyes to Arthur, and he felt Merlin's look all the way to his toes. "It's true. It's because of Uther that I've cocked it all up, and why you're the once and future King, and not him."

Arthur's heart stopped, his mouth unhinged. "What—"

"Originally, Arthur," Merlin's eyes softened a bit—like it did when he was going to tell Arthur something he didn't want to hear. "Your life was supposed to be Uther's."

"I—_what?_" Yes, he'd been saying that a lot, but _bloody hell_. He—Corbin's two best friends were actually Will and Sophia, Will being Merlin's best friend from their previous life, and Sophia being the one who tried to _murder_ him to get back home to Avalon. Also, his real best friend was an almost _omnipresent being_, he really was destined to help the world—by possibly having to stop Merlin, though he wasn't too clear on that bit, yet—his step-sister was Merlin's _real_ sister, and his life really wasn't his own, but his father's—whom his best friend killed.

Fuck.

Arthur rubbed the heels of his palms into his eyes. This was too much. "Explain. How did you get in this mess? Why the animosity between you and Fate, your…brother." Arthur frowned. He'd always felt the loss of a sibling, and even though they hadn't been related, Arthur thought of Merlin as his brother. All of that was a lie, now.

"I bargained with Fate," Merlin said, looking at Arthur as if it hurt him to say it, "to change Uther's future.

"My first go around, I was advisor to your granduncle, Vortigern," Merlin continued, looking at Arthur with that look again, fear all over his face. "Like in legend, he needed to sacrifice a fatherless child to prevent a tower from crumbling, and I was that child." Merlin smiled absently, his eyes lifting to look at Jessica. "It wasn't a secret to the three of us that I loved the Pendragon line, so I shifted into a youth and let Nimueh and her clan of sorcerers use me as their sacrifice—"

"Nimueh?" Arthur and Emmy said at the same time. He glanced at his—Corbin's—best friend, felt his eyes grow as large as Emmy's, the uncomfortable silence growing larger. Arthur swallowed, inclined his head to her.

Emmy watched him a moment longer, her small lips pressed in a thin line. "Was she the same Nimueh?" she asked Merlin, after a moment.

Merlin watched him and Emmy close, his face blank. "Yes," Merlin said at length. "She was Court Sorcerer to Vortigern, and became Uther's upon his Kingship…until Arthur's birth and Igraine's death.

"Anyway," Merlin paused, worried his bottome lip a moment. "Before she could kill me and use my blood to try to fix their problem, I used my last words as a chance to explain the real problem: There were dueling dragon's not far under the earth's surface, and they were shaking the ground, causing the tower Vortigern wanted built for his stronghold in the West to fall—" Merlin tilted his head, squinted, his mouth twisting almost comically. "Well, that, and there was ground water the masons continued to ignore. Vortigern looked at me favorably, and I told him the rest of the matter."

"The rest of it?" Sean asked forehead creased in concentration, serious as Arthur had ever seen him. "This—I never learned any of this in school."

Merlin _tsked_, a playful twinkle in his eyes. Though, Arthur was sure he was the only one who saw the sadness hanging round him like a cloud. "I was never for the books, anyway. I prefer what I can touch and see, experience," Merlin uttered as he glanced at Arthur, a bit of the sadness he saw in Merlin's face coming to the forefront in the way he took a breath, how his fingers clenched on the table between them. "I told him about the dueling dragons and what they really meant. How the outcome of their battle would determine the fate of the world." He took a breath, glanced at everyone at the table, his eyes settling on Arthur last. "You see, there were two dragons: one white who represented the Saxons, and one red: the Brits. The white Dragon was winning, and unless Vortigern did anything about it, the white dragon would win, and in his son's lifetime, the Saxons would invade and destroy the dynasty he'd hoped to build." Merlin grinned, faintly smug. Arthur rolled his eyes. "Vortigern, being the spineless sod he was, fled, leaving the virgin land without a ruler. Not too long after he fled, the dueling dragon's finished their fighting and one escaped—the red dragon."

Arthur scoffed and leaned back in his chair, skeptic. "How can that be? Father said he found that advisor-turned-traitor-turned-king at Camelot with a _finished_ castle, and Vortigern received his sentence for killing uncle Constants nobly." Uther hadn't talked much about Arthur's mother, but the king made sure Arthur knew his history—especially how Camelot came into being. On strategy and the family history, Uther Pendragon always had his facts straight.

Merlin shook his head, eyes on the table. "No, that's how it happened for you, but originally, Uther didn't kill Vortigern, but Rowena, Vortigern's wife, by poisoning him at Tintagel where they'd fled. And by the time Uther and your uncle Aurelius came to newly named Camelot, Vortigern was long dead. And Nimueh and I were waiting for Aurelius' arrival.

"Aurelius, Uther's older brother, became King of Britain overnight, as he was the next in line for the position, being the second son." Merlin frowned at Arthur, as if looking for an answer in his face. "He didn't last long, gone three years after he'd arrived and finished the castle; another poisoning. And Uther, your father and the youngest of the three sons, took the throne.

"We liked each other instantly, your father and me," Merlin said, a sad smile taking over his face. He laughed, though it lacked true warmth. "He was just as severe as he was the next go round, but he'd been passionate about the right things. He wanted humanity and magic to come together to fix all the wrongs in the world. Wanted his family curse lifted through him, breaking free from the shadow of death that seemed to hang over the family's roman blood.

"When Aurelius was on his deathbed, I magicked us to Ireland, to a field to watch the stars soar across the sky. I remember the night perfectly," Merlin said, his eyes losing focus, his smile distant, unreachable. Arthur shifted in his seat, unsettled. "Uther told of his hopes for Britain as I pointed out constellations, the young soon-to-be-King's heart breaking for Aurelius even as he planned for the future. I—" Merlin swallowed, looked at no one, even as Arthur reached out and took Merlin's wrist, hoping for a response. He got nothing. "I believed in what Uther wanted to do, believed it was possible. _He only needed the chance_. So, that night, as a group of comets lit the sky, in the shape of a dragon, I gave Uther his new name: Pendragon. And to always remind Uther of that night, of his chance at change and hope for the future, I surrounded us with stones, like a temple to the future of magic and humanity." Merlin coughed, glanced at Arthur and back to the table. "Aurelius died two nights later. I buried him at the stones to signify the end of the reign of death in the Pendragon line, at the place Uther named Stonehenge."

Arthur squeezed Merlin's wrist, his heart beating so fast he feared it would burst from his chest. "_Merlin_—"

"You've got to understand, I didn't know Uther's fate until the night Aurelius died," Merlin said, voice hoarse as he looked at Arthur, eyes rimmed with tears. "After hearing all of Uther's plans for the future—his bravery through all the death that surrounded him— I couldn't just let him _die_. He deserved to live; he deserved to make a _difference in the world_. So I went to Fate and made a deal."

Merlin pulled his wrist from Arthur, sat back in his chair, eyes to his lap. "As the strongest of The Three, and the watcher of Fate and Destiny, I'm more constricted by the rules we've set in place then Fate and Destiny are, because it's my job to make sure they uphold the rules." Merlin sighed, sounding old and tired; broke Arthur's heart. "There are heavy penalties if I restart time so drastically, even though I control it. I can interfere in lives, but in the lives of the Pendragons, the lives of the bloodline that would shape the history of the world, I'm very restricted."

Merlin looked at Arthur head on, face flat and brooking no argument. "The deal was simple: I would sleep for the first time ever, giving Fate one-third of my last reign over humanity—it was due to start as soon as Uther was to marry Igraine—in exchange for the world to be restarted. This way, the Pendragons wouldn't have the ridiculous curse over them, and Uther could live his life and accomplish everything he wanted for Britain, and by extension the world." Merlin grimaced, eyes shuttered. "But, I forgot Fate never liked my fascination with the Pendragons, and Uther in particular. I'd forgotten he resented me and my hold over him. I was so focused on wanting one Pendragon to have a successful life, I blinded myself to the risks and the potentials for things to go wrong." Merlin looked at Jessica, reached out and took her hand.

Arthur clenched his teeth as Merlin's lips brushed against Jessica's hand. They were siblings, he knew, but Merlin had never showed affection to Jessica back when she was Morgana, and that was how he saw her just then: not Merlin's sister Destiny, but Morgana, one of the banes of his existence.

"If you hadn't been asleep, I think you would have talked sense into me," Merlin said against Jessica's hand. "You always said the things I didn't want to hear." Merlin dropped Jessica's hand and looked at Arthur, anger around the crevices of his eyes as he narrowed them in Arthur's direction, eyes not seeing him. "But I was tricked, and it was my fault. Fate used my love for the Pendragons to jump start his agenda: to have control of the world when our reign over humanity came to an end. I'd never slept before, and I certainly couldn't be counted on to wake naturally. Fate knew this, and didn't wake me when Uther came to Camelot, like we agreed."

Merlin sighed, sounding more world wary than ever. Arthur bit his lip, refused to reach out to his friend again. "Instead, he woke me a year or so before Arthur was born; and instead of leaving Jessica to her rest, he woke her and made her Uther's ward—and more powerful than she'd ever been, before remembering her place in the world. While Jessica and I were clueless to who we were—we never remember who we are when we first wake, to give us a chance to understand the world we live in, so we rule justly—Fate did his best to destroy Magic using Uther, had Nimueh botch a spell and kill Igraine, inciting Uther's wrath and war on Magic. He tried to use me to kill our sister through poisoning, and constantly put Jessica and I at odds over Arthur's future."

Merlin looked back at Jessica, took her hand again. Arthur's fingers twitched. "Fate used Jessica, with the help of Fre—" Merlin glanced at Arthur, looked extremely guilty, for a moment. "—the Lady of the Lake, to lock me into the Void. And with Jessica not remembering who she was and the Lady of the Lake deceived, there was nothing I could do.

"And worst of all," Merlin leaned forward, stared at Arthur, intense and cold. "He didn't erase Uther's dark future, but passed it on to _you_. And there was nothing I could do except hope Jessica would wake and help me. She didn't. And I realized, then more than at any time, I could do nothing."

Silence.

It seemed no one wanted to speak first. Arthur glanced round the table; Jessica wiped at her eyes, hands clutched in Leon's as he cradled her in his lap. Sean and Emmy, unsurprisingly, looked gob smacked, Emmy looking a bit torn between the romance of Merlin's story and being saddened by the tragedy of it all. Sean sat hunched around Emmy, scowling at no one in particular.

"You can change your age," Emmy said into the silence, her mind going places and focusing on things Arthur (or Corbin, for that matter) would never truly get. "I know with magic you can change things, but how can you and Jessica do it when Jessica isn't magic?"

"Erm," Merlin twisted his hands above the table again as he glanced at Jessica. "We look the same because we aren't, erm, real."

"Time out!" Sean blurted as he nearly knocked Emmy off his lap. Sean, always one for the straight, simplest answer, bless him, glared at Merlin. "Are you even _real?_"

"I'm more real than Archimedes," Merlin snapped, looking affronted.

"Excuse you!" Archie squawked from the kitchen window seal, where, Arthur assumed, he'd moved to when Merlin went into story mode.

Honestly, Arthur forgot about Archimedes, and not because Archie eerily reminded him of himself from time to time, but because Archie was an arsehole.

"We're avatars," Jessica said, shaking her head at them all, and trading a bemused look with Leon. "Physical representations of our governing powers."

"We are them, and they are us," Merlin said, looking at Arthur hard, chewing on his thumbnail.

"But if you two have bodies, where's Fate's?"

Arthur blinked at Sean, they all blinked at Sean.

"What?" Sean said. "I'm not an idiot."

"No," Merlin said, smirking, getting the look in his eye he got the time Arthur caught him and Will just before they'd had the fallout over Merlin's friendship with him. "You just act like one."

"Oh, Fate has a body," Jessica said, glaring at Merlin. "That was all he had left until recently."

Merlin stared at the table, said nothing, malcontent vibrating from him.

Arthur frowned and punched Merlin's arm. "Well? Who is it?"

"You know him." Merlin smiled at him, but it was far from cheerful. "It's the red dragon from your legend. Kilgharrah."

"Of course," Arthur snarled, pressed and pissed beyond reason. "Of course it's the dragon. The dragon who near burned down all of Camelot, yeah?"

"One and the same," Merlin and Jessica said together, looking at Arthur.

Arthur stood, knocking the chair back as he stormed out the kitchen. He ignored Merlin's calls after him.

This was too much. Something had to give.


	7. Part 7

13.

Arthur needed air. Hell, he needed the bloody _stratosphere_. He didn't know why hearing the bloody dragon was behind it all, or why it was the straw that broke the camel's back—

No, Arthur knew why.

What happened with the dragon—the aftermath, finding out Merlin set him free and ultimately letting him go to wreck havoc on Camelot (so many lives were lost for Merlin's bloody _stupid_ decision), lying to Arthur. It all spot lighted the gaping errors and problems in his and Merlin's friendship.

How much of what they experienced was with Merlin, his best friend, and Merlin, governing power of the universe? Was everything Merlin did in their past motivated by guilt and regret for what he'd done to Uther? And Jesus, Merlin _killed_ Uther. Killed Uther…so Arthur had enough time to fulfill his father's former destiny.

Arthur tripped down the hallways of Merlin's home, his chest tight, legs leading him to God knew where. Were they really friends? Had—had Merlin cared about him? In choosing Albion and what was (he thought) his destiny, instead of what could have been with Merlin the right decision?

Ultimately, as he lay dying in Merlin's arms the first time, it really hadn't been a "Merlin versus Albion" decision. He thought Merlin understood what he'd meant—what he'd realized right as he was dealt Mordred's deathblow.

Clearly, Merlin hadn't understood. Not if he was willing to sacrifice the world for Arthur, now.

There were truths to Arthur's first death. His regrets were absolutes.

He should have never interfered between Lancelot and Gwen. Should have killed Mordred at his first chance, for Albion's sake. Never should have blown off Merlin's concerns for his safety.

He made the right decision in choosing his responsibility to Albion over Merlin. That would never change. Nevertheless, he would have been honest with himself, with the poorly hidden feeling he held for the wizard.

But, that was the past, where regrets should stay. There was no time for regrets when the world's end was near, whether through Merlin's mistakes or Arthur's failures.

Arthur found himself on the patio, the woods of Merlin's estate not too far in the distance, the night shrouding him like second skin.

To his annoyance and surprise, Leon was already there.

"What a night," Leon said, a quiet smile on his face as he watched Arthur like he had not a care in the world, both hands filled with dark beverages.

Arthur zeroed in on Leon as he walked toward his former knight. "Go away," he growled, patience thin.

Leon continued to smile and disregarded the order entirely, offering Arthur a glass. "You look like you could use a drink."

Arthur took the drink from Leon's outstretched hand, sipped. Choked on the liquid. "This is Coke," he said, aghast.

Leon smirked as he stood beside Arthur. "You're sixteen; can't possible hold your liquor yet."

"I'm—I'm—" Arthur scowled. "_Really_ bloody old, actually." Fuck, he was decrepit. How did Merlin do it?

Leon laughed. "You'll get used to it, eventually."

Arthur looked at the ground, placed his drink on the nearby patio table, on guard. "What if I don't want to get used to it?" Arthur asked, slow, eyes drifting to Leon.

Leon didn't say anything. He shoved his free hand in his pocket, regarded the night around them. "Merlin left a few seconds after you walked out. He's probably off doing something particularly stupid."

Arthur frowned. That was _his_ line. He cocked his head at Leon, suspicious. "How'd you know it's stupid?" Leon was probably right, yet, Merlin was…Merlin was his responsibility, and no one else's.

"I remember how he was after you died." Leon looked at him, sad and curious both. "Desperate."

Arthur didn't want to hear that. He narrowed his eyes. "How long have you known?" he asked. "About what Mor—Jessica is?"

"About twenty years," Leon said, smirking again.

Arthur swallowed, looked at the sky, back at Leon, addled. "But you don't look a day over twenty-five or twenty-six. You look like you did when _I_ was twenty."

"Jessica's powers are nothing like Merlin's," Leon said, sounding bemused. "But she can alter appearances; age me down when the situation calls for it."

"You love her," Arthur said. And honestly, he should've known. Leon had been making cow eyes at Jessica the first go round. Anyone could see it. He'd been positive Leon thought the sun shined out of Jessica's arse. The whole situation after Jessica defected had been horrible not just Arthur, but Leon as well. Whispers of collaborations had swept through the Kingdom, accusations of Leon being a spy and ultimately responsible for Jessica's betrayal had flew fast and heavy. If Arthur hadn't trusted Leon with his life—he trusted a very few—Arthur would have assumed Leon had either fallen prey to Jessica, or rotten from the beginning. Thankfully, that had not been the case. And hopefully, the situation would never repeat itself.

"The night Merlin killed Uther," Leon glanced at him, face unreadable. "He was convinced you would kill him."

Arthur's stomach rolled. "You think Merlin killed Uther."

Leon gave him a level look, almost disappointed. He shrugged. "I don't think Merlin killed Uther, but he didn't save him, either."

Arthur frowned, feeling a bit disillusioned. As it happened, Merlin wasn't the only one who'd changed. Leon had, too. It was yet to be decided if it was for good or bad.

"Merlin's Jessica's brother," Arthur said, getting back on task; the only thing he could say. "He wants her to be happy."

Leon opened his mouth, looked at Arthur, and closed it again. "She's your sister too—"  
Arthur laughed, felt his chest grow cold. "No, she's really not."

"What she is doesn't discount what she was to you," Leon looked at Arthur, apparently not knowing when to drop a subject. Leon was a strong and loyal knight to the Kingdom, once upon a time, but this was one of the first times he'd shown such gumption.

Arthur sighed. "How can you," he grimaced, looked at his feet. "How can you be with her? She's an avatar—like a hologram—not real."

Leon shrugged, turned back to the night before them. "It never occurred to me not to love her," he said eventually. "And I believe it's the same for you and Merlin. You two are incapable of being anything other than each other's …everything, for better or for worse."

Arthur's heart clenched. _Fuck_.

That certainly put things in perspective. Unfortunately, it wasn't a new perspective, not for Arthur.

"Jessica and I suspect Merlin's gone to Kilgharrah," Leon said, looking at Arthur over his cup. "Either to kill him or to make another deal. I'm betting he'll kill Fate."

Arthur scoffed, thinking of Merlin. "So cynical, Leon."

Leon chuckled. "Jessica's been a good influence."

"If you two know where Merlin went and why he was going to do it," Arthur said at length, irritation tensing his shoulders, "then why did you let him go?" Leon was a good man, no doubt about it, but he'd always taken a bit to get to a point.

"Archimedes' there to stall him," Leon replied, placing his glass on the table beside Arthur's. Leon looked at him and sighed. "But the owl's not you. You know better than anyone there's no forcing Merlin to do something he doesn't want." Leon narrowed his eyes, as if measuring Arthur and his relationship with Merlin. "Or maybe you don't," he said after a moment, amusement settling across his face like dust. "Either way, you're the one who loses the most if Merlin goes through with Fate's death."

"Why would I be the one to lose the most?" Arthur asked, incredulous. "_Bloody hell_, Merlin's going to destroy the world—I think that's a bit more problematic."

"We'll all be gone within a blink," Leon shrugged. "But not you." He pointed a finger at Arthur, calm, sure. "And it'll only be you. Merlin would fall away from the guilt of killing Fate, eventually—but he'd spare you, even if leaving you alive and alone without him was worse than death."

Arthur's heart seized. As horrible a light as it put Merlin in, he knew it was true. Oh, Merlin wouldn't think of it that way—if Merlin thought about the consequences at all. But the wizard would do whatever it took to spare Arthur, assuming he'd be able to undo it, somehow. But, how long would he be alone, waiting, and what was the point of Merlin saving him if there was nothing left to protect? "What do you want?" he whispered, running his hands over his chest.

Leon's jaw clenched, eyes not hard, but certainly firm as he regarded Arthur, sparing him nothing. "You need to stop him before he goes too far," he said, tone clear, concise, unwavering.

Arthur stared at Leon, not all together surprised. He still panicked. "You want me to make him my enemy," he said at length, voice rising with each word. "No, I _can't_—Merlin will _never_ be my enemy—"

"I'm not saying that," Leon assuaged, hands out before him. "You have the chance to prevent that from happening. You're the only one who can."

"What if I can't do it?" Arthur uttered into the air, old insecurities floating to the surface, ambivalent. "We've—so much has happened tonight—"

"Remember yourself, Arthur." Leon's hand landed on his shoulder, heavy, warm and not Merlin's. "If there's anyone you can stop, it's Merlin."

Arthur ducked his head, received Leon's gentle and honest censure. The former knight was right. Not trying was never an option between him and Merlin. Whether it was an enemy against them, or their own demons, they fixed it.  
There were certainly a lot of them.

To be honest, Arthur was positive Merlin's decision to change his and Uther's destinies was the biggest mistake Merlin ever made—as far as Arthur knew. There was no getting around that.

Though, there were other mistakes—mistakes Arthur had made that weighed heavily against his relationship with Merlin. He wasn't altogether sure Merlin had forgiven him for marrying Gwen (or forgiven Gwen and Lance, for that matter). Hell, Arthur wasn't sure he'd even forgiven himself for loving Gwen so blatantly and unrepentantly while denying Lancelot and Merlin their chances at the same thing. And even with Merlin's—issue, now, Arthur couldn't say he'd made his decisions out of the goodness of his heart—like Merlin.

Arthur was selfish, no doubt about it. Something Merlin had no concept of, something that got him in trouble from time to time, like right now.

Sometimes, Merlin needed to be saved from himself. Luckily Arthur was there.

"Where is he?" Arthur said as he folded his arms across his torso, stepped free of Leon's hold. Leon would never be Merlin. "Better get a move on."

Leon grinned, bouncing a bit on his feet. "Merlin's brother owns a clock shop in Soho. It's called Out of Time."

"Ugh." Arthur grimaced. "That's horrible and unoriginal."

Leon laughed, eyes twinkling. It reminded Arthur of Leon the first time round, and he remembered (even if the conversation they were having wasn't enough reminder) why Leon had been one of his most trusted advisors. "Fate's a horrible and unoriginal entity. Goes with the territory."

Arthur bit his lip, staved off the grin. He shouldn't laugh at Merlin's relatives, but it seemed ridiculous to do otherwise. "Jessica, Emmy and Sean?"

"Living room," Leon suplied, tracking Arthur without a hitch. "Jessica's got the power to transport you to Merlin. She'll want to do that straight away. Emmy and Sean wanted to be filled in on what was happening—well, on what your part of it will most likely be."

"No doubt they've already googled the shop and have a route picked out," Arthur grumbled, though half heartedly, as he headed past the indoor pool off the patio and back into the main house. "Thanks."

Leon shrugged and kept pace with Arthur. "Just stop him. I'd hate to get finally have time with Jessica, only for it all going to shit now."

Arthur laughed. "Fair enough."

It wasn't nearly as dark in Soho as Merlin would have thought. It probably had something to do with all the red lights.

The clock shop, Out of Time, was garish at best. Despite the general neighborhood becoming up and up, Kilgharrah's shop seemed determined to stay low rent. Peeling green paint on the store front, a faint putrid smell seeming to come out the woodwork, a decaying metal and wood door with a rusty doorknob—it was in shambles.

And really, Merlin figured it could only get worse from there. Fate wasn't exactly known for trying new things.

"You've been stubborn before," Archie said once he'd materialized on Merlin's right shoulder. "But this is taking the cake."

Merlin scowled at the owl. No matter what Jessica said, he could do this, kill Kilgharrah, and not destroy the world in the process. Since it was for Arthur, there wasn't any other option. "It's for Arthur—"

"Stop lying to yourself," Archie snapped, talons digging deep into Merlin's shoulder. "Do you really believe Arthur would appreciate knowing you _destroyed the world_ in his name? Don't be ridiculous!"

"I won't destroy the world, Archie." And Merlin wouldn't. Why didn't anyone have faith in him? He scowled at the bird. "It doesn't have to be that way. I can't let Kilgharrah live when his sole purpose it to kill Arthur. Again."

Archie fluttered his wings. "Tell me, has Destiny ever been wrong?"

No, she hadn't.

Merlin frowned. "It can all be decided at the last moment—"

"Yes, to change from this _current course_, Merlin. You can still choose not to do this—"

"What other choice do I have?" Merlin said as he stared at Kilgharrah's door. There was no doubt Fate knew he was there. If their link (one Merlin never used) hadn't warned him, all the racket he and Archie's argument was making would have tipped his brother off. "Give me another option, and maybe—_maybe_—I'll consider it."

Archie scoffed. "And killing everything Arthur stands for is better than letting Arthur _die_—"

"Yes, Archimedes, it is," Merlin hissed. "Once you've held him in your arms and watched him die—" he looked at his feet, took a breath. "Fuck you, Archie, yeah? _Fuck you_."

Archie stilled on Merlin's shoulder.

"Yeah," Merlin muttered as he opened the door to the shop. "Plan A it is."

"We're coming with you," Sean said as soon as Arthur made it back into the kitchen, Leon by his side.

Arthur was already shaking his head. "No, that's mad. You'll only get in the way."

"Corbin would've let us come," Emmy said beside Sean, face beseeching. "He wouldn't think of leaving us behind."

Arthur stared at his—Corbin's friends. "It's—I—" He took a breath. Emmy's words stung, Jesus, they did. He was trying his best, damnit, but he wasn't Corbin, not really. "I don't want you to get hurt," Arthur said at length, sparing a look at Sean and Emmy both. "How would I explain it to your parents?"

"How would we explain it to you mum?" Sean shot back, stepping away from Emmy and closer to Arthur. "What would she say if she knew you'd gotten hurt and we weren't there? You and Merlin might be long lost mates and all that, but Igraine doesn't know that."

Arthur groaned, rubbed his face. Shit, _Igraine_. He had his mum. Jessica gave him his mum back…and maybe his dad, too. Though, he hoped the monster that lived in his house (and who looked nothing like Uther) hadn't been Uther—

"That was Fate's doing," Jessica said, popping out of bloody _nowhere_ beside Leon. "He wasn't Uther, the man who raised you. Just a poor man with parts of Uther's memories foisted on him. They were incomplete, intended to make him mad, I think." Jessica sighed, grim-faced. "Bits and pieces of Merlin and Uther's history together. Times before Merlin changed things, some after."

"Why the _hell_ did you let Fate fuck with someone like that?" Arthur asked as he looked around Leon and glared at Jessica properly. "What did that man—my second father—do to you?"

"Nothing," Jessica said, shaking her head, eyes shuttered. "I love Kilgharrah, and—and, it's complicated."

A chill ran down Arthur's spine. Could Jessica read minds? But—he rolled his eyes, remembered who he was talking to. "Of course it's complicated. When's it not, again? Oh, right. Never."

"Anyway," Sean interjected, giving everyone in the room except Emmy a bit of a glare. "Your mum would be devastated and you know it. Cor—you've—always looked after us. Let us return the favor."

Arthur hesitated, stared at his former self's mates, throat working. "I'm different now, you know. Corbin and I are very similar, but his feelings—his friends—"

"Let us become just as vital to your life as we were to Corbin's, yeah?" Emmy said as she stepped next to him, taking Arthur's hand. "Give us a chance."

Arthur swallowed and looked at his hand clasped in Sophia's. No, not Sophia, and not Will. Emmy and Sean, Corbin's—Arthur's—best mates. He sighed. "When we bring Merlin back," he said, lifting his eyes to Emmy and Sean's expectant faces, "please keep the snogging between you two to a minimum."

Sean snorted, placed a hand on both Arthur and Emmy's shoulders, smile bright and adventurous. "Speak for yourself, mate. For all we know, you could be the bloody King Snogger of Camelot."

Jessica guffawed—ugh, never again, Arthur vowed, did he want to hear _that_—beside them. "If he and Merlin would've got their heads out of their arses the first time—"

"Harpy," Arthur hissed at Jessica, "I know the idea of having boundaries back then was a foreign concept to you, so I'll forgive your sordid fantasies," he said and ignored Jessica's scoff as he grabbed Sean and Emmy's hands. "But if you could get to teleporting us to wherever Merlin is, that would be splendid."

Jessica scowled as she took Arthur and Leon's hands, forming a large circle. "I have no idea what Merlin sees in you," she said, and whisked them up and away.

14.

Kilgharrah kept his clock repair and consignment shop as stereotypical and ironic as possible. Merlin guessed since the old dragon didn't have the imagination (or the power, until a little under seventeen years ago) to make the world one living, breathing cliché, he'd spend the rest of his time on earth living it.

Clocks and watches, floor to ceiling, all ticking, all busy, _busy_, busy counting down until the demise of the human race. Counting down until Fate could have his revenge.

Kilgharrah had every watch and clock from every time and dimension, some known to man, some not. Merlin took in the clocks on the ceiling, their faces looking down on him, some covered in leaves, others reptilian in nature. If he squinted, he could see the nails in the octagonal shaped time counters, where Kilgharrah had to forcibly keep the multi-dimensional clocks in place. The reptilian ones were especially slippery and had quite the habit of attempting to return to their own dimension. And he would know; he'd given them to Kilgharrah as a New Era gift not too long ago. The gifts were very special, as Fate was a horrible carpenter and didn't know a spanner from a cup of tea. Merlin took special glee in knowing Kilgharrah's obsession with time overrode his common sense.

As Merlin watched, the reptilian clock right above him wiggled under the crooked screws; it disappeared, fading fast and silently.

Merlin smirked, satisfied. Archie snorted on his shoulder. "You love that, don't you? That he's got a secret flaw only you know."

Merlin shrugged, nearly threw Archie off his shoulder. "Nobody's perfect. If there's a lesson Fate needs to learn, that's certainly it."

It was possible Merlin still had issues with his brother—well, _obviously_. Maybe. He wasn't above pettiness; he was bloody Magic, not Jesus Christ.

Merlin sniffed the dusty stuffy air around him; the clocks stopped.

"I didn't expect you for another seventy years at least, Magic," Kilgharrah said as he shuffled out from the back room of the shop, the scrape of his shoes loud against the recent silence.

Kilgharrah looked, disturbingly, like Ian McKellan. When not in his true skin as the dragon, Kilgharrah (or Fate; Merlin could never decide on which name offended him more) looked like the ultimate wizardly father figure. No doubt Fate picked the likeness on purpose: to remind Merlin (and Jessica) who'd been chosen as the oldest and wisest of The Three.

Lies.

Merlin hated the character of Gandalf. He was worse than Harry Potter (_effort_, Rowling; how hard was it to be original? The spells _alone_—) in that he ruined any chance of Merlin being taken seriously as a young wizard. Well, unless he had a scar on his bloody forehead and glasses, or, or he had a wizened face and an even more wizened cane. And yes, Merlin had the problem before Tolkien thought the character up; never taken seriously in such a young human form, but now the idea of The Old Wizard was immortalized.

It was clear Kilgharrah was getting him back for having limited powers and a form that changed into only humanoid shapes, had to be. Fate knew how much he hated clichés, knew Merlin would seethe.

These days, Merlin had to look at least forty to do any showy magic, not that he did showy magic, really—

Merlin blinked at Fate's tan smock, his near waist length grey beard; the robe under the smock – was quite wizard like. His creased and dry face, faded eyes… the pipe hanging from his mouth, the long grey hair.

A small smile played on Kilgharrah's cracked lips. He winked.

Merlin took a breath, resisted setting fire to the shop. Kilgharrah had always been quite the bastard.

"That's a pretty horrible lie," Merlin said as Archie landed on top of the table Fate settled at. The owl crushed what looked like an antique clock under his talons. Merlin grinned. "Even for you."

Fate inclined his head, chuckled a bit. "True, I thought you would have come to me right after your King's first return breath." Fate leaned back in the chair, it creaked under his weight. "You surprised me."

"It's nice to know I can still do that," Merlin said as he watched Kilgharrah's relaxed pose. "I'm not here to catch up, just so you know. I'm giving you a chance to stand down, not go through with whatever plan you've got—"

"Did you ever wonder who gave Nimueh the prophecy?" Fate said, eyes sharp, lips twisted wryly. Merlin resisted the shudder. "I knew if I planted the prophesy, you would come. We're not as optimistic like Destiny, you and I. We both know there's no hope of this ending any other way except with the death of all we hold dear."

Merlin tilted his head, surprised. "You hold something dear? I can't imagine what it could be."

"Don't be stupid, Magic, not now." Fate sneered, tapping his fingers atop the desk. "I hold you dear. Well, your governing powers over Destiny and myself, the magic inside you."

"And your fascination with the Pendragon line," Archie said, his wings unnaturally still.

Kilgharrah looked at the owl. Merlin tensed.

"He was a poor substitute for your King, I'm sure," Kilgharrah said after a moment, regarding Archimedes. He turned his attention back to Merlin. "It only makes sense that he would be jealous of your fascination. But it's true; I don't understand why you love them so much."

"The Pendragons are the only family line who handles Magic the way it should. They respect it, use it to aide them, but don't rely on it," Merlin supplied, tired of the same old lecture. They'd done this when he'd come to Fate to make the deal. He thought Fate understood, but looking back, Kilgharrah had only wanted more ammunition to further his plans. "We're here to support, not to hinder."

"They're a dead line." Fate leaned forward, his fingers stopped their rap. "They never met their full potential, the Pendragons. You are filled with false hope and are delusional."

"They didn't reach their potential because you did everything possible to stop them." Merlin stepped closer to the desk, his clothes brushing the desktop. "You always hated that they stepped out of the lines you made for humanity. You've always hated that I embraced change and you're incapable of doing the same."

"Nonsense," Kilgharrah dismissed sagely with a flick of his wrist. "It was my right to interfere. I am Fate. But we wouldn't be here right now if you hadn't asked for help in changing what was to happen to your Uther and his family." He laughed, eyes lighting like fire as he regarded Merlin. "As usual, you thought with your heart instead of your head, put no boundaries on your request. I've always wanted to remind you of the correct way to rule. We are to never show favor, Magic. You gave me a chance to correct your ways—with the Pendragon line."

"No, that's you, only you," Merlin said, anger rising like a wave. "You're implacable and show no favor. Destiny shows mercy through actions and decisions humans make in their lifetime, and I protect humanity when you two go too far."

Kilgharrah huffed, didn't otherwise disagree, surprisingly. "I asked you," Merlin hissed, did his best not to fling power in Fate's face. "I made a deal with you because I believed you could benefit as well. I knew you wanted a longer last reign. I thought you would take the time I gave—allowed—you, and be happy with it. Instead, you destroy everything the three of us have done." He leaned close, let Fate see the truth in his eyes. "You know, if pushed, I could have done all I asked without your help," he said, anger cooling as his true persona—Magic—rose within him.

"And why didn't you?" Fate shot back, standing and glaring at Merlin from across the desk. "Don't lie to yourself. The Pendragon line was outside of your reach."

"We're family, Kilgharrah, whether you like it or not," Merlin whispered as he dropped his eyes to the desk. "And I've never understood why you hate the Pendragons so much, why you think this is a game."

"We're not supposed to love," Fate said, his voice sounding bitter to Merlin's ears. "It seems I'm the only one who remembers that. Love gets in the way of power. We have dominion over humanity, yet you wouldn't know it by the way the two of you are acting."

"We won't have it for much longer. Arthur's back," Merlin said, looking back at Fate's angry face. "Our time here was always going to end, our power was never forever."

"It should be," Fate replied, eyes golden. "They aren't ready to control their own destinies. And your belief the Pendragon King will be able to stop whatever Destiny has planned for him, is a lark. It would be better for you to kill me now and let the world go to dust."

"Always so cynical," Merlin said, exhausted. "You're not really giving me an option. Either I kill you or you'll do your best to kill Arthur. You never cared for humanity—"

"Why should I?" Kilgharrah replied, brows raised incredulously. "They care nothing for where they came from, what _we've_ done for them." Kilgharrah smiled. "And yes, you have my words well marked. You know you seal your boy-King's death with every day you're in his life," Kilgharrah said, amused. "I suggest you take your leave before my patience grows thin."

"Everyone thinks I'll destroy the world to protect Arthur," Merlin said as he felt his power, the death magic he'd hoped to never use, build. "But I've got more finesse than that."

Merlin watched Fate's eyes widen. "We are The Three, we can't be—it is all of us, or none of us, Magic. You can't—"

"I always knew you'd underestimate me," Merlin said and laughed, though there was nothing funny. "You thought I'd let you kill him again, to spare humanity, but I can't do that again. Arthur—he's—" Merlin swallowed, his eyes burning. "I _can't_."

"No."

Merlin flinched, looked over his shoulder to the shop's door. There, stood as angry and as desperate as Merlin had ever seen him, was Arthur.

"No," Arthur said again, as he felt his feet take him to Merlin's side. "No, you absolute idiot. _No_."

Merlin was glowing. It looked like steam or mist around him, black and brackish in color. It wafted around his best friend like smog. The air around Merlin was cold and oddly still, but—actually, Arthur couldn't give two shits about that.

He placed his palms on Merlin's shoulders, felt a bit of static and heat, but nothing else. "Stop. Don't do this."

Merlin shifted under Arthur's hands, his skin scorching under Arthur's fingers. "He'd see you dead again. Don't you get it? Doesn't _anyone_ get it?"

"Of course I understand," Arthur shot back, offended. He could feel Fate's gaze on him like a missile, waiting for his chance. Death awaited him, and if there was anything Arthur knew, it was that. It was never about the when, but the how. "But you're bloody mad if you think I'm going to let you kill your own brother to save me."

"You've no choice," Merlin said, face hard and implacable. "It's the right thing to do."

Arthur sighed. He knew Merlin was going to say that. And God help him, he didn't think Merlin was wrong. But, if fratricide wasn't involved (it would destroy Merlin, no matter what the idiot said), and the world wasn't at stake, then he would have let Merlin at it. But ultimately, he cared too much about Merlin's well being to be so selfish.

Arthur clenched his jaw and turned around to Kilgharrah. "Why do you want me dead?"

Arthur ignored Merlin at his back, could feel Merlin's curiosity and fury like a weight. But he was only in one entity: Fate.

It was a valid question, one Arthur figured he was owed. After all, this was the entity who encouraged him and Merlin to fulfill their destiny—

Arthur grimaced. _Oh, right_. To fulfill Uther's destiny, almost destroying Jessica-then Morgana, to punish Merlin for past deeds. And now, to fulfill the very thing Kilgharrah wanted from the beginning: To call Merlin's bluff and take control of the world.

Kilgharrah smirked, eyes raking over Arthur's frame and _holy shit_, he looked a lot like that Gandalf bloke. "He'll never understand, not like you and I, twice young Pendragon," Kilgharrah—Fate—said, voice as deep and dry as Gandalf himself. "It's best one of us dies tonight, and if you want to protect your Merlin…heal him, you'll sacrifice yourself." Kilgharrah tilted his head, watched Arthur with faded grey eyes. Fate's gaze drifted to Merlin, ever so slow. "If you truly understand our Merlin, you know why it's best."

Merlin was a bit mad, Arthur knew. No, it wasn't obvious, but the Merlin standing behind him now and the Merlin from his first life were not the same. There had always been a level of desperation with Merlin the first time round (and especially right before Arthur's death), but in the hours Arthur had his memories returned, the desperation stretched farther. Darker. He didn't agree that Merlin should be like Fate, or even Destiny, but it was clear for all to see: Merlin couldn't go on much longer like this.

Something was wrong with Merlin, and Arthur didn't know what it was. Whatever it was, it would be key to healing Merlin, and nothing else.

Arthur had no illusions about Kilgharrah. The old dragon orchestrated Merlin's demise from the beginning. He knew Kilgharrah's type; the entity saw Merlin's weakness as soon as the first child Pendragon line breathed their first.

It was both simple and obvious, Merlin's weakness: Love.

Love could make one weak and vulnerable. Caring for someone left openings for attack and destruction. When one had power, loving and caring were the last things they could need. When caring was involved, there was a large chance for failure. The only loving and caring allowed should be for the responsibilities one had. Loving those responsibilities and being in love with those responsibilities were two separate things.

Merlin loved without reserve, cared to a fault. There was no doubt in Arthur's mind that if he didn't exist, Merlin would be better for it. His best friend could—_would_—survive, had no choice not to, really. Merlin had lived without him before, he could do it again; and be healed.

Well, that was Kilgharrah's theory, anyway. Arthur could see the merits in it. If the goal was to make Merlin more like his siblings, then it was a great plan. Have the object of Merlin's—obsession—take himself out of the scheme of things, forcing Merlin to move on, see the errors of his ways—that he cared too much for humanity—would force Merlin to put his personal feelings aside and govern humanity properly. Or, lose hope and relinquish his power.

But, Merlin without love was not possible. Because for Merlin, love was a double-edged sword: it was his weakness as well as his strength.

Arthur suspected, when he really thought about it, the real reason Magic was stronger than Fate and Destiny as a whole, as well as the disciplinarian (what a laugh! Merlin could barely keep the wrinkles in Arthur's shirt in line!), was because Magic—and Merlin by extension—ruled through love.

Yes, Merlin was a lot of things, and not all of them were pleasant. But having a bleeding heart wasn't a problem Arthur would ever change in his friend, and he'd do whatever it took to preserve it.

Arthur straightened his bowed shoulders. "You'll have to excuse me," Arthur said as Merlin, the loudest silent person on the planet, glowered behind him, "but I'll take my chances."

Kilgharrah watched Arthur, gold eyes swirling. He inclined his head. "Unfortunate, but it will not change anything. I will still take your life—"

"You first," Merlin hissed behind Arthur. "And never again."

It was quick. Merlin was everywhere and nowhere at once. Arthur's back felt made of fire as Merlin …faded away, leaving nothing but heat against his skin.

Arthur whipped around in time to see Jessica standing by Sean, Emmy and Leon. Her jaw dropped, her body burst into an explosion of _bubbles_, of all things, the Technicolor fragments converging into a solid green light. The green energy zipped up, and as Arthur followed it—Jessica—with his eyes, the world around him turned black.

"Your Highness, to me!" Leon shouted, strident, his right hand outstretched to Arthur as Sean and Emmy closed in around the former knight.

Arthur was to them in a flash, literally. There was a large possibility Merlin or Jessica had something to do with that, despite his body responding to Leon's call just as if they were in battle. It—

The shop disintegrated around them.

It was loud, like a volcano erupting, the walls of the shop, the floor, the ceiling, cracked like glass, looking for all its worth, a two-dimensional painting rent to shreds.

Someone screamed, and it took a moment for Arthur to realize it was Emmy. He turned to her, waiting for the early defense system—Excalibur—to step in, but—_nothing_. He groaned, remembering Merlin's assurance he wouldn't need Excalibur now that his wizard was with him.

This couldn't have been more poorly planned if they'd tried.

Emmy was surrounded by a green light; a light Arthur suspected was actually Jessica, the energy entering into Emmy through her mouth, only to come back out not a second later.

"Oh," Emmy said, her face looking a bit dazed as she swayed on her feet, the green energy zipping away into the burgeoning dark before she'd finished speaking. "It's all starting to make sense now," she said, a smile blooming on her face as she looked at Arthur. "They really love you."

The shop was gone, _gone_, the only thing left of it—of the world Arthur or any of them knew—was some sort of surface under their feet, the only place that was still _there_. Though, as all but the last remnants of light faded away, he didn't know _what_ they were standing on.

Wind shrieked around them, like some sort of void-like specter, loud yet empty. A cold finger went up Arthur's spine, and against his will (but not his curiosity), he turned around. The desk where Kilgharrah sat was gone like the rest of the shop, in its place nothing but inky darkness, wide and all encompassing, the wind more telling than Arthur would have liked. Wherever they were, he and his friends, it was a gaping maw of nothingness.

"If you want to save him," Kilgharrah's disembodied voice goaded into the fading light, "come after me."

Arthur clenched his teeth, their situation starting to sink in. "We're fucked."

"Where the—what the hell is going on?" Sean yelled behind Arthur, and he turned around, surprised he could hear Sean over all the howling wind.

Sean had aimed his verbal assault at Leon, going by his balled up fists yanking at Leon's jacket. "Where are Merlin and Jessica? Where the hell are we?"

"Fate and Magic are fighting," Leon said calmly over the noise, extracting his brown jacket from Sean's fingers with a firm tug. "We're not really anywhere, I don't think. Jessica told me once, there were places on the planet that were between worlds. It's not the void—a place The Three go from time to time, if forced—but a place where they could be a part of the world, yet separate. My guess is that this is—was—one of those places."

"Now?" Sean yells again, eyes bulging angry and incredulous. "Now you tell us this?"

"What?" Leon said, the first signs of anger threading through his voice as he stared down at Sean. "I didn't know the shop was such a place."

"Destiny is going to try to mediate between her brothers." Arthur nearly flung Archimedes off his left shoulder when the bird appeared. Archie raised a brow at him, like he knew what Arthur had nearly done. "It's up in the air whether she'll succeed or not," the bird continued.

"She won't," Arthur mumbled under his breath, confident the wind would steal his words.

"No, she won't," Archie replied, sounding as if the world was already lost.

Well, that wouldn't do. Arthur looked around him as the place they stood—a cliff, he suspected, was what was left of where the shop had been— began to rumble and shake. There was still hope, as long as he—King Arthur— breathed.

"Stand closer," Emmy yelled behind Arthur as the ground beneath them began to crumble. "Quick!"

The ground disappeared beneath them like a ghost, and they all fell, their screams lost in the noise around them, the—

Arthur landed on a soft, buoyant surface. He blinked, looking around himself, taking in Sean and Leon's surprised faces, Emmy and Archie's (still on Arthur's shoulder, the arse) calmer ones.

"What?" Arthur whispered, reaching out and touching the shiny bubble like surface around the five of them. The clear (he could see all the way out—not that there was much to see) surface gave under the pressure of his finger, bounced back as lessened the pressure.

They were in a sphere, essentially, Arthur realized as he took in Leon's exaggerated curved back as they straightened themselves and stood, a bit in awe. It was a giant green-tinged bubble, though it glowed white, and just large enough to hold all five of them, and if Arthur guessed, if would spin just like those hamster balls did. "Why—how?"

Emmy giggled. _Giggled_. "I said they loved you," she said, face alight with joy. "Merlin and Jessica. And besides, you need to be alive to stop him—"

"Help him," Arthur corrected, his mind returning to his purpose: saving Merlin. He folded his arms across his chest, took in Sean's still shocked face, Leon's determined one. "I've got to find him."

"Are you serious?" Sean spat at Arthur, eyes like blue fire. "Where the hell do you think you can go? Merlin could be in the Middle Ages for all you know—if he's even in a place. How are you going to get there?" Sean shook his head, hard, pissed off. "I'm sorry mate, but maybe this is where the story ends. Being King Arthur can't solve this problem!"

Arthur sighed, tried not to laugh despite the situation. Corbin remembered Sean's hysterics very well, and it was quite funny to see Sean freak out about this, given his tendency to be clueless for such things.

Arthur scoffed, smiled. "I'm bloody _King Arthur_. I'm the answer to every problem." And if there was ever a question Arthur could answer, a situation he could fix, it was Merlin.

"I'll stay with them," Leon offered as he inclined his head to Arthur. "Keep an eye on Jessica, if you would. She can be quite…fierce."

Arthur snorted. Fierce was one way to put it. "I'll send her to you as soon as I find her. Keep track of these three for me, yeah? Though with Archie here, you could lose him and I don't think he would be missed."

"I would appreciate it," Archie grated out as he hopped off Arthur's shoulder and onto Sean's shoulder (he wasn't exactly welcome; Sean squawked, sounding eerily like Archimedes), "if you threw yourself into the abyss."

Arthur smirked, stepping backward until his shoulder blades pressed against the wall of the sphere. "That was the plan." He inclined his head to Emmy, Sean and Leon, ignored Archie, the wanker. "Be safe."

"You should be afraid!" Sean yelled, his own fear and concern showing on his face.

"I am afraid," Arthur said as he pushed on the wall of the bubble, the barrier giving way like jello against his skin. He hissed, the outside of the barrier feeling like knives aiming to cut him in half. "But what choice do I have?" he grunted through the pain, taking in Emmy and Sean's frightful faces as he passed through.

He was afraid, but he would be brave.

Arthur fell into the darkness, the oblivion swallowing him whole.


	8. Part 8

15.

Time was lost; how much, Arthur didn't know. One thing was for sure, he didn't feel real.

Something was wrong.

Arthur grimaced. The feeling of being torn apart faded like it was never there, and he straightened, taking in his surroundings.

Of all the ways Arthur thought the end of the world would look like, it certainly wasn't this.  
He was surrounded by roses; a field of them.

The sky was near impossibly blue, a few thin errant clouds doting it, moving slowly but surely across the blue expanse. There was a gentle breeze, nothing like the chaos he'd just left, the roses—thigh high, oddly—swaying with the current, gently tapping his jean clad legs. The flowers were all the darkest red—blood red, actually—almost like it was life's blood that kept them vibrant.

Arthur shivered. This wasn't Kansas anymore. Hell, he'd never been to Kansas, but he was sure this place wasn't it. It—

"_Arthur_."

Jessica's eyes stood out like beacons against her pale skin. "What have you done?" she husked, barren.

"I have to help him," Arthur replied, his attention already to Merlin and Kilgharrah a few meters in front of him. "You need to see to the others. Emmy's holding them safely, but I don't know how much longer—"

"Tell Merlin I've got you," Jessica cut in, tears dripping down her face, like they'd always been there.

Arthur turned back to her, sharp. "I'm not going with you—"

"You can't come with me," Jessica said, her voice both urgent and sad. "Tell Merlin he'll need to do what he must," she said, cryptic as always. "It's the only way. He'll know what I mean."

Lightning filled the sky and Arthur watched as Merlin and Kilgharrah's body's disintegrated and took to the darkening sky.

"How…" Arthur turned to Jessica only to find her gone. "Right." He frowned.

The sky continued to go from blue to a stormy grey in a smattering of seconds. The air around Arthur turned cold and the wind tumultuous. Chopped off rose-heads came at Arthur like marauders, only to drive past him as the last second, leaving him unharmed; uprooted stems flew round him and he ducked around the debris as the world seemed to give its protests.

"Merlin!" Arthur yelled at the top of his lungs to no effect, the wind swallowing his words.  
It began to rain as the dueling energies—Merlin blue like his eyes, thankfully, Kilgharrah in gold—attacked each other. A storm—no, deluge—poured from the sky, thunder and lightning shaking the earth and brightening the sky.

"They'll kill each other," Arthur muttered, doing his best to see past the torrential elements to Merlin and Kilgharrah. The brothers jetted across the sky, their energies leaving pockets of nothingness in the places Arthur saw them clash.

Merlin might have been the stronger of the two, Arthur mused as he watched blue and gold crash together and leaving white space in their wake, but Kilgharrah wasn't going to give up without a fight.

Arthur sighed up at the sky, his body somehow evading the battering the elements wanted to give him. The debris flying in the air did land a few blows (clumps of dirt, branches from unseen trees, flowers and stems) but other than the initial contact, he didn't feel the objects, nor the temperature changes.

Arthur glowered at the blue energy zipping through the storm clouds. That was no doubt Merlin's doing, trying to protect Arthur even as he was fighting to destroy everything in his honor. _Typical_.

He couldn't let Merlin kill Kilgharrah. There was no doubt Kilgharrah needed killing, but not today, and not with so much to lose.

They were the servants of the world, Arthur and Merlin. Their desires coming second to the world were their fate more than anything Kilgharrah could ever conjure.

When Arthur leaned about their ties to each other, a year after he'd been crowned the first time round, he'd tried to convince Merlin of their priorities—both personal and for the greater good. It fell on death ears.

For Merlin, Arthur knew, the only job and interest his friend had was in the protection of his king. Merlin had always been a single-minded, all-or-nothing sort of bloke. And if he believed Arthur was the one to unite Albion (though he hadn't known to what extend Merlin had wanted it) then he was going to sacrifice everything in order to see Arthur achieve it.

Arthur had agreed with the sentiment, back then. They'd both made sacrifices—all of them personal—to keep the people of Albion safe and reach their goal. But it wasn't until he lay dying on a rain soaked field, his head in Merlin's lap, he realized he'd been wrong. They both had been horribly wrong.

There could be happiness in having priorities greater than themselves and have their heart's desires. Responsibilities and priorities didn't always mean sacrifice. It would have been harder to achieve both, but it would have been worth it.

There could have been happiness the first time round. They could've been happy.

It took his dying before Arthur understood it, but he wouldn't let Merlin destroy everything before he realized it as well.

They had to be greater than themselves. That was their fate. But there would be benefits this time round.

It wouldn't be easy, this once and future king business, but Arthur was brave. And even if it killed him, he'd force Merlin to be brave too, and to take the harder route.

Arthur threw his head back, ignoring the rain, the thunder and lightning, the wind and cold. "_Kill me first!_"

Merlin heard him; there was no doubt in Arthur's mind.

The blue energy bolted from the sky and swirled around Arthur, Merlin materializing in front of him a moment later.

"_No_." Merlin's bottom lip was cut; blood was smeared on his chin. His left arm swung at his side at an odd angle, looking both dislocated and broken in several places. His trousers were singed, the knees on his right leg completely burned away, the skin exposed underneath black and smoking—

"What…" Merlin blinked at him, eyes sweeping over Arthur's body. Magic blanched. "What did you do?" he snarled at Arthur, eyes bright gold and glassy. Merlin stepped closer to him, as if the state he was in didn't hurt or matter. "Arthur—how—_what did you do?_"

"Are you going to grant me my win?" Kilgharrah's disembodied voice said before Arthur could respond, the avatar appearing a few meters behind Arthur and Merlin a second or so later.

Merlin turned to his brother, his body shaking. "You tricked us."

The right side of the dragon's human face was burned away, the meat and bone showing through like a bloodied and dead replica of Batman's Two Face, the remnants of the hair on his skull in clumps. Where Merlin's arm was broken, Kilgharrah's limbs were missing. His right arm and leg were gone, though it'd never have been known by the way he carried himself, as if the limbs weren't phantoms, just unseen to the naked eye.

Kilgharrah chuckled, it was gruesome. "Your boy-king is transparent. He can't resist his own bravery," he said. He licked what was left of his bloodied lips, his head quirked to the side. "The lengths your human will go to save you are commendable—futile, but commendable."

"Don't listen to him," Arthur said and placed a hand on Merlin's shoulder—only to have his hand pass through Merlin's body.

Arthur shivered, a cold finger running up his spine. He'd hoped Merlin's injuries were superficial—that he'd just forgotten to do a quick mend—but if Merlin wasn't solid, what kind of power was it taking him to destroy his brother?

Arthur gritted his teeth, met Merlin's stricken face, determined. "I won't let you destroy him, Merlin. Even if it means I'll be your enemy."

"Enemy?" Merlin said as he turned to Arthur full on, his breath hitching, angry tears streaking his face. "It's too late for that. Killing him is the only way to avenge you."

"Avenge me?" Arthur blinked. "Merlin, there's got to be a better way to stop him! The world isn't worth—"

"Don't you _dare_ finish that," Merlin hissed, pointing a shredded finger in Arthur's face. "You were the only thing that ever mattered to me."

"You should listen to the boy, brother," Kilgharrah said as he stepped closer, still unhindered by limb loss. "He'll be an expert on lost causes yet."

Merlin glared at his brother, his body slowly fading as Arthur saw rage fill his eyes, even as Merlin's mouth twisted, looking trapped. His expression turned resigned at the last instant before Merlin the avatar melted away and Magic formed blue and bright, his eyes solemn, like when he appeared after having been locked away at Camlann—

"Prison," Athur blurted to the blue energy, his mind a flurry of activity as he tried to connect the pieces of his past and present. "You were taken away from me! Merlin, put him in the—the—"

_A place The Three go from time to time, if forced_; Leon's words reverberated through Arthur, and—

"The Void," Arthur yelled at the blue energy.

The energy—Merlin—didn't acknowledge him, instead brightening into an almost white color. Merlin—

"It cannot hold me forever!" Kilgharrah yelled as he stumbled away from Magic, fright and dread dancing across his face. "The repercussions will be twice as bad as my death!"

Kilgharrah seemed convinced Merlin wouldn't kill him, but Arthur had no such guarantee.

The blue energy nearly burned Arthur's eyes, but somehow he was able to withstand it. The energy crackled like a cut power line; it sucked at the atmosphere like a vacuum.

"Don't," Arthur yelled just as the energy released a bolt of blue-white light right at Kilgharrah's petrified form.

Arthur had no choice. He jumped in front of the power, hoping it would kill him and save the world—

The energy went through Arthur and straight to Kilgharrah.

Kil—_Fate_—howled, the earth and sky shaking with the strength of it as white fire consumed him.

Arthur fell to his knees, his breath stuck in his chest as he watched what was left of Fate burn away.

Kilgharrah's body (what was left of it) flickered under the flames and faded to gold energy. The fire clung to the wisp of energy like the energy was still Kilgharrah, still physical. The energy bolted straight up into the air, but it couldn't escape the flames.

Just before the energy went so high into the atmosphere Arthur lost sight of it, the sky above it ripped open, like knife to cloth, expending a white light brighter than the flames eating Fate.

The Void.

Fate hesitated the last moment, Arthur saw, as if trying to dodge the football pitch-sized hole in the sky, but it was too late.

And like a trap set, Fate, and its avatar Kilgharrah, were sucked into the Void.

The rip sealed itself shut, the earth and atmosphere vibrating, a large crack and boom thundering through the air as the hole disappeared.

"Did you kill him?" Arthur asked as he rose and turned to Merlin. He didn't pause for breath.

"No." Merlin was healed, as if he'd never been hurt. His countenance though, was a stormy tale; anger, regret, and sadness all fighting for control of his face as he regarded Arthur. "He's alive. Barely."

Arthur nodded, closed the distance between them a bit. "Will it keep him contained?"

Merlin stared, hard, at Arthur, his jaw clenched. "He's weakened to the extent he won't be able to get out himself," he said at length, the words sounding dragged out of him.

Arthur frowned. "How can you be sure—"

"I've experience with it." Merlin's eyes flashed, his hands fists at his side, that eerie anger/pain etched on his face like marble.

Arthur lifted his hand, aiming to touch Merlin to make sure he was really there; thought better of it when he saw Merlin's face. "I'm sorry about your brother, but I'm glad you're okay."

Merlin watched Arthur's hand instead of looking at his face. "You're not," he whispered, voice hitched.

Arthur shivered. "Pardon?" he took two steps away from Merlin, shook his head, clearing it. "I—let's go back to your house. We need to check on the others—"

"You can't."

Arthur blinked at Merlin as his best friend swiped at his nose. "We can't?"

"Not we. _You_," Merlin shook his head. "Kilgharrah tricked us. It was a setup—a backup plan. What he's done to you—I should've known he'd finish his game one way or another."

Arthur swayed on his feet, feeling lightheaded. "You—I—"

Merlin was by his side in an instant, his face both calm and aggrieved.

Merlin touched Arthur's face and he shivered again, closing his eyes, registering Merlin's touch before it faded away.

"Open your eyes," Merlin said, his voice sounding muffled, like he was forcing himself to speak through tears. "_See_."

Arthur obeyed. He stared at Merlin a moment, followed his wizard's eyes when they dropped between them.

Merlin's arm was through his chest.

Arthur staggered back, hissing, waited for the pain to begin. It didn't.

"This place was never meant for humans," Merlin said and sobbed, his shoulders shaking. "You shouldn't have been able to follow after us. _How_ did—_what_ did—"

"Emmy made a protective globe," Arthur said, feeling numb as realization slowly soaked in. "I walked through it."

Merlin nodded, his bottom lip trembling. "Of course you did," he said, hoarse. "To save me."

"I'm dead, aren't I?" Arthur asked, kept his attention on Merlin's face. Who knew how much longer he'd be able?

"No," Merlin whispered, eyes dropping to his shoes. "But eventually. This place is quite literally the Place In Between."

Arthur narrowed his eyes, alert. "What do you mean?"

Merlin bit his lip, watcher Arthur. "Your body isn't here. It should still be with Emmy and the others." Merlin glared at him, fire in his eyes. "Jessica unlocked Emmy's powers for a reason. It was to protect the four of you. Being in that protective globe saved them."

"But not me," Arthur croaked, his throat closing.

"With the Place In Between, you have to leave as you came," Merlin said, eyes everywhere but on Arthur. "Think of it as a hidden passage way with locked doors on each end. If by chance you can get into the passage, and can get out, you've got to leave with what you brought because there's no way to get back in again—the locks change."

"Why can't you just…carry me out?" Arthur asked, confused. It seemed simple. Horribly risky, but simple. If Merlin couldn't get him out, as mad as he was, no one could.

"How can I carry an object that is at two different locations at the same time? If your body wasn't still in this place, then maybe. But right now, your spirit and your body cancel each  
other out."

"But what will happen to me? I can't just bloody stay here forever!" Arthur yelled, his voice ringing through the air. This was unacceptable. He didn't save Merlin only to be left alone,  
again.

"You won't be," Merlin whispered, eyes blurring with tears. "Both you and your body will begin to fade until you disappear here, and your body ceases all function."

"Jessica had a message for you," Arthur said for lack of something better to say. At least now Jessica's reaction to his appearance was starting to make sense. "She said you are to do what you must."

Merlin's face went strange. He blanched even as a glimmer of hope sparked his eyes. "Oh," he muttered, mouth frowning and smiling at the same time. "_Oh_."

"Tell me there's hope," Arthur demanded even as he did his best to expect none.

Merlin watched him, sighed, looking distracted. "If I can cancel out one of you, it will act like a key and then I can help you."

"And what's it you must do?" Arthur said, dread holding tight to the pit of his stomach.

Merlin swallowed, his jaw set. "I must kill you."

Arthur blinked at Merlin. "Kill me? Kill me _where_?"

Merlin couldn't begrudge Arthur the panic, not really. What he had to do to the former king would be a desperate and drastic stunt.

"If I kill you here, I think your body will die instantly," Merlin mused, matter-of-fact. "But the other way round, I think it gives me time to set everything to rights." He had thought of hundreds (of thousands) of ways Arthur could've died, contingency plans at the ready, but this…this, he never expected.

If the Three's rule over humanity had truly been a game, Merlin would have conceded to his brother.

Merlin shook his head. _Well played, Kilgharrah_.

Arthur frowned at him, eyes losing focus. No doubt working out the scenario in his head. "How long do I have once my body's done?" he asked after a bout of tension filled silence.

"Not long," Merlin replied, heart thumping. "Fifteen, maybe thirty seconds at most."

"Seconds—" Arthur grunted, eyebrows as high as the stars. "That's all? That's all you can—"

"You're really not supposed to be alive now," Merlin snapped. And it wasn't seconds, actually, but milliseconds. He was being optimistic. "We have to act fast. This is the only time when both sides of you will be at their strongest. If we're ever going to get a proper chance, this is it."

Arthur opened his mouth, frowned, and closed it again. He stared at Merlin, face steadily pinking. "Right."

"Arthur?" Merlin inquired as his best friend walked right into his personal space.

"In case this doesn't work," Arthur murmured, eyes larger than normal, his throat working convulsively.

Merlin frowned, heart kicking up a notch. "What—"

Arthur kissed him, or meant to, his lips landed against Merlin's like a car accident. Merlin felt nothing. He opened his mouth is surprise, tried his best to feel something, _anything_, his quiet hopes finally getting what they wanted, but it was to not.

Arthur pulled away, gasped for breath. Merlin could tell by the look on his face, Arthur hadn't felt anything either. He did his best to ignore the tears budding in the former king's eyes.

"I'm honored you didn't pick me," Arthur said, a small smile breaking through the futility heavy in the air.

"What—" Merlin scowled at Arthur, cross as comprehension dawned. "Only you would be happy I didn't pick you first over anything and everything, you ponce."

Arthur shrugged and dipped his head. "It was the right thing to do. I regret nothing."

"Well." Merlin cleared his throat to bar it from closing. Why were he and Arthur always so shit at goodbyes? They were some of the most important people to enter the world (definitely true for Arthur), he thought they'd at least get blessed with _minimal_ social skills. "Just in case, I—"

"Save it for later, yeah?" Arthur said, a resolute look about him as he folded his arms over his chest. "After you've saved me by killing me."

Merlin didn't flinch, much. He nodded. "Fair enough."

Merlin looked around them, took in the destruction he and his brother caused. Whole segments of earth were pulled up, craters the size of lakes, large stones, flowers and grass strewn about like a garden after a dog had a run rampage through it. The sky still reflected his mood; grey and dense, the air cold and sharp. He was a bit relieved Arthur couldn't feel anything at the moment.

Arthur stood amongst the ruins of the Place In Between, face scared but fierce, shoulders back, head held high. Regal, every bit the once and future King. He would be lonely, Arthur, but hopefully not forever.

Merlin refused to memorize the image before him, chose instead to be brave, like Arthur.

"I'll return," he said, a small smile taking hold like fire. "Wait for me."

oOo

Merlin wasn't surprised by the vigil held in his bedroom.

Arthur's body lay in repose under Merlin's duvet, skin pale, lips blue tinged, body unnaturally still.

Sean sat at the left side of Merlin's bed, closest to Arthur, his chair squished to the bed as far as it could go. He was hunched over, his elbows on his knees; head bowed low, his shoulders trembling.

Jessica sat on her calves at the foot of the bed, both hands gripping Arthur's covered feet. She looked almost as pale and dead as Arthur. Leon sat behind her on the overly large bed, his chest pressed to her back, holding Jessica up quite literally, his face stricken, confused, as if the situation he found himself in just didn't mesh with his outlook of events.

Emmy, the fearless one, Merlin thought fondly (alarmingly), went farther than the others dared. She was sprawled on Arthur's comatose form, her head cushioned on Arthur's chest, her small arms and hands wrapped round his torso, eyes open and looking at nothing.

Merlin hadn't been gone long enough for anyone to think something was amiss. In this dimension, he was sure it hadn't yet been ten minutes since he'd placed Kilgharrah in the  
Void.

"Is it done?"

Merlin looked at his sister, watched her start under his gaze, though her eyes never left Arthur's body. "Yes."

"Will you save him?" Sean asked as he lifted his head and looked at Merlin, his heart in his eyes.

"He's only inhaled once since Jessica brought him back," Emmy said before Merlin had a chance to reply. Her tone was blank, eyes still in another world. "He's not cold or hot, he doesn't look completely dead, but he's not very alive. It's a bit like he's paused."

"Arthur's body is waiting for him to return," Merlin said, his stomach bottoming out. "If he doesn't, they'll both waste away."

"Will you save him?" Sean repeated, looking less lost and more angry by the second.

"Of course," Merlin replied, did his best to look Sean in the eye. "There's no other choice, really."

"He knows what you must do?" Jessica asked, attention still on Arthur.

Merlin swallowed, regarded his sister. Their existence was never going to change. He and Jessica were alone, now that Kilgharrah was—gone, and they already had to move on. There was no time to grieve for their brother, not with everything in the balance. If they ever got the chance to grieve, it was going to be a horrid affair, what with the sordid history and love/hate relationship they both had (Jessica at a lesser extent, though Fate wronged her in his own way) with Kilgharrah.

Merlin nodded, brushing the conflicting thoughts aside. "Yes. And the sooner I do it, the better."

"What's _it_?" Sean asked, back stiff and voice brittle as he looked at Merlin, suspicious.

Merlin sighed. "Arthur's body has to die—"

"What?" Sean flinched. "_Die_—"

"So I can get his spirit and revive him," Merlin continued, vexed. Time was running out and the future—both Arthur's and the world's—hung in the balance.

"There will be consequences for interfering directly in his life," Jessica said, finally looking at Merlin. She was paler than he thought, near translucent, dark circles under bloodshot eyes, lips bruised and chapped.

"Haven't I been interfering in his life all along?" Merlin replied, bit his bottom lip and looked at Arthur. "There's always consequences," he said and shrugged. "We'll have to see if they'll be good or bad."

Merlin climbed onto the bed and shuffled on his knees to the left side of the bed where Arthur and Emmy rested. She clutched at Arthur's body, her eyes no longer vacant but fierce and protective. She wasn't going to let go of Arthur easily. It warmed Merlin's heart; Jessica chose Arthur's protectors well.

Merlin casted his attention round the room, looking for a distraction. This magic would take all he had, and he'd need every gram of it. Jessica's help was out of the question. As Destiny, she really couldn't be too hands on about it—conflicts of interests—and she'd already taken too much of a chance by bringing Arthur's body back to the mortal dimension so Merlin could make a difference, amongst other things.

But Archie—

_Huh_. Merlin scanned the room twice, saw no bird both times. He sighed; Archimedes wasn't one to cut and run, but if he wasn't round, there had to be a good reason.

Merlin placed a hand on Emmy's shoulder, watched the girl's eyes track him. "Release him."

"Promise me you'll do your best," she whispered, tears springing in her eyelids.

"I'll do one better," Merlin said as a real smile took hold of his mouth. "I'll do Arthur's best."

Emmy's mouth quirked up, and she joined Jessica and Leon at the foot of the bed, there and gone in a smattering of seconds.

Merlin looked at Arthur's form as it rested peacefully, near lifelessly, on his bed.

Killing Arthur shouldn't be easy, but human lives were fragile and easily extinguished.

Arthur was never made to be inactive, and seeing his best friend neither moving forward or backward, _paused_, turned Merlin's stomach.

There should be words.

Arthur was slipping away from Merlin, and there was a very large possibility him intervening in Arthur's life this directly would come back and bite them both hard in the arse.

There should be words in case Merlin cocked it up and Arthur was lost to him forever. Words to carry Arthur's spirit into the beyond.

Merlin's mind was blank.

Anxious, Merlin directed his mind to his and the former king's last meeting. Arthur was waiting for him in that empty half-dimension, counting on him to make things right. Arthur saved Merlin from both himself and the countless lives and destinies of humanity. It was only fair he return the favor.

Merlin smiled and crouched over Arthur's prone form. "Hear me, Arthur Pendragon, feel me," he whispered in Arthur's ear, aware of the eyes on him. "You've shown me the light. And right, I'm glad I didn't pick you, too. I can't live without you, but you know what else is true? Neither can the world."

Merlin leaned back a bit, his hands reaching out and gripping Arthur's face. His best friend's skin was lukewarm to the touch, but it didn't matter.

He kissed Arthur gently, carefully. A slow and steady, warm press of lips, something that would cut through time and space, through all the heartache, pain, courage and desperation they'd gone through as companions, something that would reach Arthur, even in the space between reality.

"Come with me," Merlin said as Arthur's body died and his own form fell away. "No, Arthur." He frowned, a part of him already with Arthur and holding the former king tighter as he tried to slip away. "Let's see what the future holds for you, together."

Lips brushed Arthur's own, something he hadn't been expecting, feared he would never feel.

"Come with me."

Arthur rested in the ruined rose field, sprawled on the destroyed grass, arms folded behind his head, legs spread wide comfortably.

He squinted at the sky, brows raised as he identified Merlin's true form as it descended from the cosmos like a bullet.

It was all so quick.

The blue energy gathered Arthur in a flash of blue-white light and together, they jettisoned up, up, _up_ and into the atmosphere.

They broke the ether, and instead of seeing stars and planets as Arthur had expected, they entered a tunnel-shaped corridor.

The hallway itself was shadowed and had doors; thousands of them.

Arthur could feel Merlin's energy tighten around him, the pressure like straps closing in. Magic picked up speed, zipping through their surroundings, the doors blurring.

"_Life is death_," a deep alto voice whispered from one of the doors and all of the doors at once. "_Don't embrace life, stay here where you belong_."

"No, Arthur," Merlin's form said gently, coaxing, the energy tightening around Arthur further.

"_Pendragon,_" the same voice said, sweet and inviting, "_sleep. Find your rest with me. Find—_"

"Let's see what the future holds for you," Merlin said, ever loving, ever kind. "Together."

The voice ceased. The hallway faded.

Arthur could see the stars; the constellations and galaxies around them, the meteorites buzzing past, the beyond, in all its wonder, right at his fingertips.

Arthur smiled.

"Yes. Together."

oOo

There was no pain. Arthur hadn't expected that.

"I've got better things to do than watch you laze about all bloody day."

Arthur grinned and opened his eyes. "You'll do what I tell you, git."

Merlin rolled his eyes, his smile looking forced even as close as their faces were. "Not bloody likely—_argh_—"

"Arthur," Emmy squealed once she'd knocked Merlin out of her way with a surprise elbow to Merlin's neck.

"_Emmeria_," Arthur croaked into Emmy's hair as he pulled her tight against him, his throat closing. "So good to see you."

"Sound a bit worried, mate," Sean said beside Arthur as his childhood friend (Christ, it was going to be awkward if Sean ever became Will, he realized) attacked him, climbing on the bed and hugging he and Emmy both. "There was nothing to fear," Sean said into Arthur's neck.

Arthur snorted into Emmy's hair. "Look at you, Sean. Acting like you weren't sniveling like a girl—"

"Hey!" Sean barked. "I'll have you know, I was the epitome of mannish behavior."

"I'll always take care of you three," Jessica said, her voice sounding a bit muffled.

Arthur peeked over the top of Emmy's head and saw her standing at the foot of the bed, her eyes red-rimmed and too bright. She smiled at him, her lips trembling with false and overly optimistic cheer. "That'll never change."

Sean and Emmy finally saw sense and extracted themselves from Arthur's person, and climbed off the bed, giving Arthur the space he needed. And for the record, he hated every second of that feel good moment, almost assuredly—certainly—yes, he didn't have butterflies in his stomach from the joy, they were baby condors.

He inclined his head and scooted backward until his shoulder blades brushed against the bed's headboard. He smiled. "Nice to know that _now_, Jessica."

Jessica rolled her eyes, the spark of playful smugness returning a bit. "Don't start, Arthur. If it wasn't for me, you probably wouldn't be here now. None of you."

"Are you taking credit for saving the world?" Arthur asked, his mouth falling ajar. "That's rich."

"It's true," Jessica said, and chuckled. "And it's Morgana, actually. I know you don't want to admit I'm the same person you knew, but I am."

"I—" Arthur blinked at her, pinked. "Morgana," he said softly, watching Morgana's face fill with warmth. "Right."

"I take it you're glad to be back?" Leon said, climbing off the bed and standing behind Morgana, his pseudo-sister's ever present companion and watcher.

Arthur watched Leon, heartened to see his old comrade safe and sound, and there for Morgana in ways Arthur never could. Merlin and Morgana lost their brother not long ago, and even though Kilgharrah wasn't dead, his absence would be missed.

It was good to see Morgana wouldn't be alone. Sir Leon, Arthur was glad to re-confirm, was a good man.

Arthur nodded. "Yes, I'm—"

"It would be a complete waste of time if Merlin hadn't brought him back," Archimedes said as he landed on Leon's shoulder out of nowhere, startling everyone in the room. He glowered at Arthur. "Arthur would be a blubbering mess without Merlin in that place; utterly useless."

That arse Archie was still alive. That, unfortunately, accounted for everyone.

Arthur twisted his lip at the devil bird. "I see—"

"I'm both relieved and put out that you stand before me with no broken limbs," Archie continued, golden eyes swirling angrier than usual—not that Arthur knew Archimedes, mind.  
Thankfully, that was far from the truth.

Arthur crossed his arms, and glared harder at the bird. "You should've been a vulture," he declared at length.

Archie shrugged, his left wing popping up. "And from what I understand, the only thing Arthur Pendragon of old did right was acknowledge his wizard's importance." The owl lifted a feathered brow. "You let the entire world know Merlin's worth."

Arthur opened his mouth; shut it. It was clear Archimedes got his abrupt subject changes from Merlin. If that didn't prove he was Merlin's creation, nothing did. "I thought you hated me," he said to Archie's smug face.

"I don't hate you." Archie said, snide, like their first meeting wasn't a complete nightmare and Archimedes hadn't treated Arthur like he was the bird's sole cross to bear. "I just don't think you're worthy of Merlin."

"Merlin's done so much." Arthur stared at the carpet, hyper aware of the expectant ears around him. "I'll never be worthy of his interest, I don't think anyone is." Arthur looked at Archimedes, hoped the bird saw the truth and promise on his face and tone. "But I'll strive to be everything he believes me to be."

"You've already done that," Morgana said as she engulfed Arthur in a hug, smelling of lavender and lemongrass. "You're his king. But now it's time to be someone far more dangerous."

Arthur glanced around, pulling out of Morgana's embrace, surprise battling with concern. "Where is he?"

"Gathering himself, I'd imagine," Morgana said, a watery and wry smile plastered on her lips. "He looked to be in quite the strop when he teleported off the bed."

Arthur sighed, and climbed out of the bed, thankful to note he was still fully dressed. He knew what had Merlin aggravated. He pinched the bridge of his nose, his own ire building. If Merlin thought he could be righteously angry after their history, he had another thing coming.

"Arthur?" Emmy called after him, sounding both confused and nervous.

Arthur didn't spare the group a glance, admonishing himself for being so wrapped up in Merlin that he forgot about everything else that mattered.

He made it out of the bedroom and took off down the hall, his heart darkening with every step as he followed his instincts to his wizard.

Yes, Arthur was happy to be alive, ecstatic to be given another chance; his trust rightfully placed in Merlin's hands. But, there were things between him and his best friend that needed tending to, and almost none of them were pleasant.

Quite frankly, the argument he was about to have with Merlin, was centuries in the making.

16.

"Tell me," Arthur began as he closed the terrace door behind him. "Why did I have to learn about my own legend in English class?"

Merlin turned around from the view of the forest, his arms wrapped tight round him, tears falling freely down his face. "I was scared of what you'd become."

Merlin eyed Arthur, looking wary, his tears drying like steam. "How did you know about the void?" he asked, careful, eerily calm.

There it was, Arthur observed, the anger. He tilted his head, returned Merlin's odd stare. "You mentioned it when it was dragged out of you while you told that tale, and Leon mentioned it off when we were in the sphere," Arthur said as he crossed his arms over his chest, taking Merlin's quick anger head on. "He just volunteered it. Can you imagine? I didn't need to die and be bloody _rebirthed_ before I was given the truth."

Merlin's face fell. "Arthur—"

Arthur shook his head. "_No_, you tell me everything or tell me nothing."

Merlin stared at him, his face growing harder as every second of silence passed between them.

Arthur frowned, his own anger turning to rage as his heart beat a staccato. He knew the look on Merlin's face, he'd know it anywhere. "Really," Arthur gritted out through clenched teeth. "You're willing to destroy the world to save me, but you won't tell me the rest of the story?"

Merlin sighed, the sound bitter and frustrated to Arthur's ears. "It's complicated, alright? And really, there's not much you don't know—nor is there a way I can tell you everything."

Arthur threw his arms up, nearly hitting Merlin in the face. "Fine, then tell me about the parts with me in it."

Merlin grunted, sounding frustrated, and glared at Arthur. "Do we have to do this now?"

Arthur sneered, opened his mouth—and closed it. Merlin was pale again, eyes red tinged and watery, his breath coming in quick bursts. "Merlin," Arthur whispered at length, reached out and placed his hand on Merlin's jaw. "I—"

"_Go away_," Merlin snarled and smacked Arthur's hand away.

"Never," Arthur said leaning in Merlin's personal space, as immovable a force as he could manage. Besides, Merlin didn't want him to go.

"You never listen," Merlin hissed in his face, shoving him away.

Arthur didn't budge. Merlin _really_ didn't want him to leave. "Sure you aren't talking about yourself?" Arthur hissed back. "You never told me about any of this."

"I told you," Merlin said, fire returning to his eyes as he grimaced at Arthur. "I didn't want it to be your life."

Arthur flinched, felt useless. If he wasn't—_how_-a king was all he'd ever been. How could he be different? How could he want another life other than the one he had? Being a king was the only thing that gave him worth. "Merlin,was everything we had—our friendship, all the ways you reacted to me—my feelings—were fake? Was it all just to get to this point, so you could change everything I've ever known?"

"No," Merlin blanched, was in Arthur's face in a flash, bent so far into him, Merlin's chin brushed the crown of his head. "I wanted to fix my mistakes. I don't think you would want this life if you had a choice—"

"Oh, fuck off very much, yeah?" Arthur snapped, yanking away from Merlin. "You can't know that—I don't care who the hell you are, Merlin. You're not Destiny, or bloody Fate—you can't know anything—"

"You were going to leave me."

Arthur flinched, lifted his eyes to Merlin, mind stuttering to a halt. "…what?"

"You were going to go, weren't you?" Merlin asked quietly, intensely, looking at Arthur through his lashes, the air stagnant between them.

Arthur frowned, blanched, his eyes widening as he understood Merlin's whispered words. "I wasn't listening to the voice, Merlin. I was never going to leave you. I—"

"You were tempted, though." Merlin uttered as he searched Arthur's face, looking lost, broken. "I held your spirit in my body. _I know_."

"I was taken off guard and nothing more," Arthur lied, stricken, his hands fisted at his side as he tried his best to keep his secret.

Merlin's shoulders bunched together, he twisted his lips at Arthur. "Why would you want to die—"

"It's true what Fate said," Arthur found himself mentioning, agog.

"Fate?" Merlin blinked. "I—what—"

"There's a high chance you would be better without me," Arthur said, finding, deep down, that he actually believed the words he was saying.

"No," Merlin assured, closing the distance between them. "That's not true."

Arthur stepped away from the wizard, just out of reach. He shook his head at Merlin, sad. "I'm your weakness, Merlin. And you're mine."

"So, you were going to leave me because of our mutual weakness?" Merlin frowned at him. "_Arthur_."

Arthur shook his head. "No—yes. Merlin, if I die—"

"You've already died—twice, now." Merlin said, matter-of-fact, voice firm, looking for all the world like he was about to remind Arthur of each one. "It will never be a question of if with us, only when. I should do whatever it takes to stop it from happening."

Well, that was certainly true.

Arthur sighed, walked up to Merlin and grabbed his arms. "True enough," he said, peering up into Merlin's eyes. "Once we admit it—that we're vulnerable together—we can do something about it. Simple strategy," he said, a small smile coming willing to his face.

Merlin frowned, looking affronted. "Putting our emotions into strategy? Arthur—"

"You can't go round threatening to destroy the world every time something happens to me that you don't like," Arthur interrupted, and God help him, he was fond of the outraged look on Merlin's face.

"And that's another thing," Arthur continued, glaring at Merlin. "This changing time and reality business needs to stop."

Arthur shook Merlin a bit, his best friend moving like a (very misleading) rag doll under his hands. "I am what I am," he said, meeting Merlin's eyes, honest. "I'm sure you noticed that not telling me about my destiny didn't change anything."

"I'm starting to think that one way or another, this destiny would have been yours," Merlin said as he dipped his head. He nodded. "So yeah, I did know."

"It's not going to change anything now, either," Arthur whispered, leaning up and tapping his forehead against Merlin's.

"I never wanted you to live this destiny. I want you to be happy. I know it's stupid to want that for you," Merlin lifted his head, looked into Arthur's eyes. He shrugged, and Arthur felt the movement through his fingers like displaced energy, a vibration. "I want you to have what you couldn't have before. I might be starting to believe you were meant to be the legend, but it was still me who was the catalyst that got you there. I'm the one who took away that small chance you had at an easier life."

"You idiot," Arthur said, his fingers tightening on Merlin's arms. "I don't regret my previous life."

"No," Merlin said from the mouth of the forest, blue eyes mercurial under the moonlight.

Arthur blinked, his brain resetting and taking in Merlin's teleportation, that it was in fact _air_ now under his fingertips, and not Merlin's warm skin. "No, what?" Arthur asked, puzzled.

"No, you can't like your old life—Arthur," Merlin pleaded, his hands bunched into fists at his sides, "your life was _horrible_."

Arthur laughed, he couldn't help it. "I'm so glad you're positive." He walked toward Merlin, taking his time. "My life was hard, I'm not saying it wasn't," Arthur said, letting Merlin see the truth in his eyes, hoping his wizard understood. "But I was King, Merlin, and a Prince before that. I knew how it was to be when I accepted the responsibility of both roles. I was honored to be Albion's High King, and I endeavor to fulfill whatever else comes in this new life." He stopped just in front of Merlin's gob smacked face, remembering something important.

"On Camlann," Arthur began, heart thudding like a bloody racehorse, palms sweaty as he swiped them against his trousers surreptitiously. "I died before I could finish—"

"Arthur," Merlin said, looking wrecked, face pasty, new tears forming in his eyes. "Don't—"

"I told you I should've picked you," Arthur continued, on a roll, because honestly, it was now or never. "But, I'd do it all over again, exactly the same. Except…I would have picked you to share my life with."

"Oh," Merlin said, looking a bit dazed.

"I'd thought you'd misunderstood me." Arthur snorted. "And here I invested all that time and energy in perfecting our silent communication, just so when it counts, you flub it."

Merlin smiled a little, rolled his eyes. "God, you're still a—"

"We had an agreement," Arthur cut in, faux angry, "that we would never utter those words again. That pact goes for this life, too."

Merlin smirked, and it was real this time. "Fair enough."

Arthur cleared his throat, grabbed Merlin's left hand and entwined it with his own. "I'm sorry about your brother."

Fresh tears spilled on Merlin's face. He shrugged, taking a breath and exhaling toward the night sky, his breath foggy plumes. "It's alright, I suppose," Merlin said to the stars. "It was all a bit unavoidable. Kilgharrah was never going to change. It's the nature of Fate—unchanging, implacable. Jessica and I had hoped it wouldn't come to this, but really, there was nothing to be done about it."

Arthur frowned, did his best not to tighten his grip on Merlin's hand. "But Kilgharrah—"

"It was never about Kilgharrah, Arthur," Merlin said as he looked at Arthur, tears dried and regard choleric. "Or Destiny, or Fate, or Magic." Merlin smiled and the ferocity left him like water sliding off his skin, looking happy for the first time in hours. "It was always about you."

Arthur released Merlin's hand, stumbled backward on the grass and soil, confused and out of his element. "What? What do you mean?"

"The truth of you, Arthur." Merlin's smile brightened as he followed after Arthur on sure feet, grabbing Arthur's hand and dragging him back toward the forest.

Arthur looked behind them, couldn't see the house from the mouth of the woods. "Where are we going?"

Merlin chuckled in front of him, fingers tightening their hold on Arthur's fingers. There was no doubt In his mind Merlin would let him fall away now. "To the center of everything."

As soon as Merlin uttered the words, they were there.

There was nothing special about the center of the forest, not as far as Arthur could see. They stood in a clearing, maybe three car lengths wide. He could see the dew on the grass, his and Merlin's breaths in the air. The soil felt alive under his surprisingly bare feet—the scent of it rich and pure to his nose, signifying life, death…everything. Arthur looked above them, not surprised by the uninterrupted view of the moon and stars, but enraptured by the display nonetheless.

"The truth of one Arthur Pendragon, remains the same."

Arthur drew his eyes from the night and looked at Merlin, their faces mere inches apart. "What's that?"

Merlin's mouth widened, the corners of his eyes wrinkling. "You were, and will always be, king."

"Ah." Arthur said intelligently, not really sure what he was supposed to say.

Merlin bit his lip, lowered his head until he looked at Arthur through shuttered lashes. "It's also true your life will be difficult, something I've always had trouble with."

"I'm not special, never was," Arthur blurted, as he stepped closer to Merlin. "I tried to be honorable, to do what was best for Albion, but—"

"I don't think you know how to be ordinary," Merlin said, rolling his eyes. "You, in your short lifetime, will accomplish what The Three have strived to do for millennia. You almost did it once, you'll succeed this time."

Arthur found it hard to breathe. "Merlin—"

"How can I not love that? It's like you're bloody made for me," Merlin continued, and laughed, the sound rueful and all together self-deprecating. "You're the embodiment of our hopes and dreams for humanity. Instead of being bitter and jealous like my brother, I decided to love you." Merlin shrugged, blithe. "And my love for you drove me insane."

Arthur's heart broke, his soul crushed under the weight of Merlin's words. He stepped closer to Magic. "I'm sorry—"

"If you hadn't stopped me," Merlin whispered over him, eyelids dotted with bulbous tears, "I would have destroyed the very thing I stood for." His breath hitched as he looked at Arthur, regret written on his face. "After your first death, I went mad, and—and, I don't think I completely recovered. If I was willing to do—do that to the world, then—"

"I love you," Arthur confessed, doing his best not to grab hold of Merlin and grip him forever. It still astounded him how this body, though identical to his previous, gave so easily to a lack of true pride, was so easy to say heartfelt utterances.

This body spoke truth, and Arthur could do nothing but direct its way. He bit his lip, considering Merlin for a moment, his mind finally connecting the dots. "And you're not so much mad, as you're mad with grief."

It all made sense now. Merlin was still grieving for Arthur.

At (sort of) sixteen, Arthur still held out for a height boost. Archie hadn't been wrong, he was short. But if he remembered correctly, in the fall of his seventeenth year, he was due for a massive growth spurt. Until then, he'd have to improvise.

Arthur stood on the tips of his toes and pressed his lips to Merlin's. The wizard gasped against his mouth, didn't kiss back. He'd had expected Merlin to do as much.

"I'm in front of you, dolt," Arthur admonished as he lowered his feet. Merlin was a tall bugger. He glared at the Magic. "I'm alive and well, and most importantly, not blaming you for what happened. If you had got your way, I probably wouldn't be here right now, and that would irritate me."

"You love me," Merlin said, eyes glazed over.

Arthur didn't snort, but he failed at smothering his grin. "This is not new, Merlin. I might have never said anything, but it was understood." He sighed and rocked on the balls of his feet, exasperated. _Honestly_. "Something else that's not new: My living and breathing, so, please do cheer up."

"But you can't love me!" Merlin said, flailing his arms about him , looking panicked and trapped.

Arthur dodged a wayward hand, glared at Merlin, outraged. "I can love whomever I bloody want."

Merlin folded his arms over his chest, scowled at Arthur. "You're sixteen," he said petulantly, if Arthur had his say, which he did.

Arthur did not rip his hair out of his head. He did not. "I'm well over seven hundred, most likely. Is that legal enough for you?"

Merlin pressed his lips into a thin line, looked at the ground, his shoulders hunched. "I'm not real."

"Liar. You're my only connection to this very real world," Arthur replied, lifting his hands and brushing them against Merlin's shoulders. "Besides, I love you, so it makes you real. You just brought me back to life. And last I checked, almost- ghosts weren't allowed to have imaginary friends." Arthur clamped his mouth shut. Right. It was high time he shut his mouth before he grew a vagina.

"Sorry," Merlin reddened so bright Arthur suspected it could light the sky. "I love you, too."

"Yeah," Arthur twisted his lips, did his best not to strangle Merlin so soon after their declarations. "I think I sussed out as much. What with you willing to destroy the world on my behalf. It gave me a few clues."

Merlin huffed, though his eyes smiled. "Git."

Arthur smirked, something about Merlin's sneaky face reminding him of earlier circumstances. "We have problems, but they'll be fixed" he said, that calm he had lessening. "As long as we don't have secrets between us anymore."

"We won't," Merlin said, eyes smiling. "All my fears are gone." Merlin leaned down and brushed his lips against Arthur's, mirth in his every movement. "And this life will end much better than the last. I guarantee it."

"Right," Sean said as his eyes volleyed between Merlin and Arthur. "Maybe not so much asexual, after all."

Merlin blinked at Sean, heard Arthur's groan vibrate through him as he watched Emmy titter. "Erm, what?"

"You have a twig in your hair," Arthur said as he stood in front of Merlin, cheeks red, eyes shuttered. Arthur plunged both hands in Merlin's hair, riffling though it like a man  
possessed.

Merlin leaned into the touch, felt his eyes flash gold. "_Ah_."

Arthur stared at him, the former king's hands stilling Merlin's hair. "Yes," he said, face flushed and lips parted.

"Okay," Merlin responded, not altogether sure what he was agreeing to. That was a habit between them, Merlin noted the first go around. But if whatever it was put that look on Arthur's face, it couldn't be too horrible. Well, unless it was horribly fun, because then…well, _then_—

"Making up for lost time, are we?"

Jessica had always been good at killing a mood.

Arthur pulled his hands out of Merlin's hair as if burned. Merlin glared at his sister. "I hate you."

Jessica laughed, and to add insult to injury, Leon—bloody do-gooder and perfect Leon—joined her. "You're incapable of it, brother."

"Still," Merlin said, sharing his glower with his sister and his soon-to-be- (there was no doubt in Merlin's mind; Jessica wouldn't be wasting time now) brother-in-law. "If I could, you two would be at the top of the list."

They hadn't been gone for too long, Merlin didn't think. And even if they had, Merlin placed them in a time vortex bubble to be safe. Jessica—well, erm—Morgana hadn't been wrong. He and Arthur never touched each other the first time around, too tied to fate and honor. And now, well, now, all bets were off. One innocent kiss had led to another and Arthur's broken "Your body vibrates when I touch you" uttered in Merlin's ear, and he had no choice but to pull Arthur to the grass covered floor and stick his tongue down his throat.

One very intense snogging session done, and here they were.

Morgana raised her brow, the ever present mug of tea in hand as she and Leon relaxed side by side at the kitchen table. "Has Arthur sorted you out, then?"

Merlin coughed. "Uh—"

"Fuck my life," Arthur muttered desolately, walking off to Sean and Emmy by the kitchen door.

"How are you?" Merlin asked, sitting beside Leon and looking at Morgana on the other side of her lover.

"I miss him already," Morgana blinked rapidly, a bitter sort of smile traipsing across her face. "If we were human, I would accept the immediate grief, but…" she wiped her nose, laughed, the sound clanging in Merlin's ear like shattered glass. "I'm sad, aren't I? Kilgharrah tried to destroy the world, and I miss him."

"I think I know how Abel felt when Cain came after him." Merlin leaned back in his chair, sighed. "What will be, will be. I never took joy in wanting Fate gone, but he was wrong. I hope now, he'll understand."

"You were wrong, too," Leon, Merlin noted with a bit of surprise, said, his head tilted to the side as he regarded Merlin with narrowed eyes. "If Arthur hadn't come—"

"If Arthur hadn't come, we'd all be gone," Merlin finished, conceding to Leon's logic. "That's the last time I'll try to go and try to solve things by myself." Maybe next time, it wouldn't cost Arthur his life, even if it was just temporarily. But really, they'd done that song and dance before, and even brushes with death were too close.

"We know, Magic. Thankfully, you'll have your champion with you," Morgana reached across the table, took his hand. She nudged her head to the other side of the kitchen, where Arthur had Sean in a headlock, rubbing at Sean's hair furiously with his knuckles, Emmy laughing and egging Arthur on beside them.

Merlin rolled his eyes, but otherwise kept his attention on his sister. "It'll be alright, you know," he said to Morgana, including Leon in his gaze.

"That's the last we'll see of Kilgharrah," Morgana agreed with a nod, looking at their locked hands.

Merlin's heart throbbed. "Yes, in that capacity. Stopping me gave Arthur a chance, at least."

"And what a chance it will be," Morgana said, flat. "I heard Fate, Merlin, before you sealed him away. You know I disagree with him, but he was right. It would've been easier for the world to have ended."

Merlin flinched, looked closer at his sister. "Destiny, what do you have in store?" He knew he wouldn't get any straight answers. The Three might have shared the same intent for the world, but never a mind. Destiny, much like Fate, held the world's secrets and futures tight to her chest.

"Nothing I want to see realized," Morgana said, her eyes burning gold. "It's good that you stopped yourself, Magic, but Arthur's future will be difficult. His past life was just practice." Morgana watched him, and Merlin did his best to hide the fear he swore to Arthur he no longer had.

"You'll consume him, piece by piece," Morgana said at length, voice as implacable as Kilgharrah's had ever been. "And when the time comes, Arthur will the same test...the same choice you had, and failed: The death of his love, or the death of the world."

Merlin closed his eyes, fought against the emotions that tried to take hold. "Not yet," he hissed, cracking his eyes open and regarding Morgana's solemn face, Leon's shocked and devastated visage. "Not yet. First, he'll live his life."

Morgana nodded, a small smile returning. "Yes, Arthur will have the chance to live his life."

Merlin returned Morgana's smile, watched Leon's face break in relief. Merlin inclined his  
head, his fears assuaged, for now. "And what a life it will be."

oOo

Dawn was breaking.

He and Arthur were in one of the lounge chairs, Arthur sprawled atop him. Morgana and Leon, Emmy and Sean had left not an hour earlier, and not fast enough, in Merlin's opinion.

"I need to go home soon," Arthur said into Merlin's neck as he drowsed on him shamelessly. "Mum will be—_Igraine_." The former king froze a moment, relaxed, a puff of air hitting Merlin's Adam's apple. "I mean, I realized earlier, but it's starting to sink in now."

"Yes." Merlin chuckled, loosened his grip on Arthur's waist, let his hands sneak underneath Arthur's jumper and over his shoulder blades. He'd never been able to touch Arthur so casually—not at all, actually—and in this life, Merlin decided, he'd revel in it. "Arthur—I—sorry, but I couldn't find Uther."

Arthur lifted his head, eyes not yet in proportion with the rest of his face (secretly, Merlin liked Arthur's features; it made it much easier to see what was going on inside that head of his), gave Merlin a cool look. "Did you live under a rock while you waited for me?"

"No," Merlin said, a bit insulted. He was dedicated to Arthur for millennia, and all he got was bloody attitude. He suppressed a smile. He loved every minute of it. "Actually, I lived in a hut in Panama."

"Typical."Arthur snorted, rolled his eyes so hard Merlin feared they'd pop out of his head. "Of course. I don't know why I hadn't guessed as much already. What with you living in such gaudy extravagance—"

"These are my last few years on Earth!" Merlin cut in, outraged. "I've—"

"Last few years on Earth?" Arthur looked at Merlin, sharp eyes watching his face. "You're not leaving, are you?"

Arthur's insecurities had never been so obvious the first go round. But then again, Merlin hadn't met Arthur until he was in his twenties. It was a large difference what four years could make.

Merlin lifted his head upward, brushed his lips against Arthur's. "No, not until I know I'm no longer needed."

"You'll always be needed," Arthur mumbled against Merlin's mouth. "You're to go nowhere."

"Yes, sire," Merlin quibbled as he nipped at Arthur's bottom lip.

"Good," Arthur said and gasped as Merlin rubbed their lower parts together. "_Deputy Prime Minister._"

Merlin paused, hands slipping from Arthur's back to his waist. "What?"

"My father—Uther," Arthur growled at Merlin, the Pendragon scowl in full effect, "is the Deputy Prime Minister."

"Oh." Merlin grinned, thought of Gaius and his compound, and laughed. "Morgana is brilliant."

Arthur's scowl deepened as Merlin continued to laugh, but he found it hard to care.

"What's so hilarious?" Arthur asked above him as he eyed Merlin suspiciously. "If you're laughing that much, it can't be good."

"It's not good or bad," Merlin said as he controlled his humor. "I just thought it would be harder. This whole thing—finding you and stopping Fate—has been anti-climatic."

Arthur laughed, and it was a genuine one, complete with his head thrown back and blonde hair catching the sun's early rays. "The action will come later," he said, and smirked. "Right now, I want to enjoy my life."

"Wait to you find out who Gaius is."

"Will we never get a moment alone?" Arthur yelled at the sky as Archimedes landed on the table beside their chaise lounge.

"Where the hell have you been?" Merlin asked, not a little bit angry. He'd never got to check Archie's safety after he'd returned to the right dimension, and really, what could have been more important—

"I had a date," Archie said, haughty as he preened under Merlin and Arthur's gaping jaws.

"What?" Arthur said, incredulous. "I just saw you a little bit ago."

That was news to Merlin. He scowled at the bird. "You had a date on the day I was set to destroy the world?" Merlin asked, dumbfounded.

"What are you so upset about?" Archimedes asked, his feathers ruffling in the cool morning breeze. "I went for some air and met her—a Vulture, ha! _Arthur_— in the backyard. The world clearly didn't end," the owl said, yellow eyes sliding to Arthur. "And I see you wasted no time getting his kit off."

"Leave Merlin alone," Arthur snarled, voice like fire as Merlin blushed. "He didn't do anything I didn't want him to do."

"I wasn't talking to you," Archie snapped at the boy-king, derision in his every word. "If you think for a second that after you deflower Merlin, I'm going to stay round to take care of the offspring, I will _eat you_."

"What?" Arthur stilled above Merlin, his eyes comically looking down at him. "Really?"

Merlin chuckled nervously, playing it up. It was good to see Arthur off his pedestal every once in a while. "I've been too busy to, erm, see to my own deflowering."

"That's not what I'm referring to," Arthur squeaked as he eyed Merlin suspiciously.

"Ha!" Archie snorted, a leer in his voice. "Mad you won't be the female in the relationship, are you?"

"It's—not really." Merlin laughed, felt the smile on his face brighten and threaten to blow out the sun.

_You'll consume him, piece by piece. And when the time comes, Arthur will the same test...the same choice you had, and failed: The death of his love, or the death of the world—_

Merlin grimaced and fought against the dark wayward thoughts as Archie goaded Arthur further.

"That's enough of that," Merlin said as Archie threatened to peck Arthur's eyes out. "Leave before I cage you for the next three hundred years."

"I'd watch my back if I were you," Archimedes said, erm, owlishly, as he took off into the sunrise.

"It took you long enough to come to my defense," Arthur said, looking down at Merlin, betrayed.

Merlin smirked, kissed Arthur's scowl away. "All I ever do is defend you. You can take care of yourself against an owl."

"A bloody _magical_ owl," Arthur groused against Merlin's mouth. "But it's true, I can handle anything you've made."

"You can try," Merlin said, groaned as Arthur nipped at his mouth in punishment.

"I'm leaving it up to you to make my life everything you wished it would be," Arthur said as he kissed Merlin's chin, pressed his fingers into Merlin's hair. "Without you, I'll never get my chance. So, make me happy."

"Yeah," Merlin kissed Arthur slow and lazy, opened himself up to be consumed totally, a willing sacrifice. Arthur rose to the challenge, gave everything he had, in only the way Arthur could. Completely.

There was no doubt in Merlin's mind that one day he would consume Arthur like Morgana predicted. There were many ways Destiny could go, but Merlin was convinced her prophecy would hold true.

But Merlin was convinced, before he would devour Arthur heart and soul, his king would do it to him first.

He welcomed the invasion.

Merlin pulled away from Arthur, breathless and at peace. Whatever came their way, they could handle it. But until then, _well_. "Happiness?" Merlin smiled, brushing his lips against Arthur's grinning face.

"That's easy." 

end


End file.
